


Saar asala (Dangerous soul)

by Summerlake



Series: Dragon Age: Strong souls [2]
Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-12-12
Updated: 2016-04-04
Packaged: 2018-05-06 07:16:45
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 30
Words: 138,680
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5407808
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Summerlake/pseuds/Summerlake
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The sky is torn open and the Fade is slowly dripping out into the world, like syrup. The Qun teaches that things are as they’re meant to be. That’s never really helped, according to the Thedosians, but maybe, just this once, salvation will come from the Qun. Or a qunari, at the very least.<br/>Slightly different take on the Vashoth mage origin for Inquisition. Beware of Qunlat, raging bulls, a lot of vashedan and a place where Blackwall isn’t the biggest liar.<br/>Rating is because of the game's rating. So if you play it and are of less than age... Gorge yourself, I guess.<br/>On a short break, be back to this as soon as possible! Sorry. It's not dead though</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> While this story will more or less follow the game, I’ll try to mash together the slower moving parts into something based on the dialogue and actions available but that’ll read like a written piece. This means I’ll take the spirit of some conversations and ideas rather than copy word by word and some will just be mentioned in the passing or as a memory. Because, hell, this game is long enough all on its own.  
> There’ll also be Qunlat, to the best of my abilities and resource material.

She’d had a nightmare, or the closest thing to what she would consider normal people called a nightmare anyway, but when she awoke, it still appeared ongoing. That was _not_ comforting. It was the one thing she’d never been truly able to advise her young charges on, how to make them stop, but she’d always offered soft and soothing words when they awoke. That was a lifetime away though. If a lifetime was only short of a quarter of a century and two years. However far away it was now though, she could really use some soft words herself. None seemed to be available, judging from the harsh and cautious eyes surrounding her. The swords didn’t help either. Not that any of them appeared versed in magic or how to dispel it. She just hoped she didn’t—

No. She didn’t use her powers for that. She never used them on others unless in defence. That was how it should be and always _would be_. She was a protector, a guide, a healer.

 _Maraas shokra. Anaan esaam kost. Anaan esaam aqun._ She repeated the lines over and over in her head, keeping her eyes shut while attempting to keep her body from vibrating or even moving. This kneeling, near crouching, on a stone floor wasn’t comfortable but she could ignore it, zone it out. Even the faint sparks and crackles from her hand couldn’t disrupt her. Although that was more because if she allowed her mind even the chance of thinking about it, of poking at it magically, she might just start breaking down. Whatever that was, it hadn’t been there before the conclave. Something that was carried through from her nightmare? No. _Maraas shokra._ Don’t linger on it. Not yet. Be at peace. _Anaan esaam kost._ She had enough problems as it was.

The loud bang of wood upon stone roused but didn’t cause her to jump. Opening her eyes slowly, she allowed them to trail up the two figures walking towards her. She knew authority in a person’s step and she could read it almost in the sound of one of the women’s footfall. The swords withdrew.

She’d always worried about how it would be, what would have happened, if she’d been found out before that fateful day she ran. She guessed this was as close as she would get to it.

“Tell me why we shouldn’t kill you now?” the armoured woman circling her growled, making her brows dip and lean ever so slightly away. She’d experienced more harsh sentiments and words in the past two years than ever before in her life, she felt, but it was still something she instinctually drew away from at first. She’d gotten better at it. Shokrakar said as much and most of the others agreed. In this case, though… It was difficult to answer because she honestly didn’t know what had happened. Something, however, had clearly gone wrong. Her thoughts were confirmed in the next breath from the woman as she completed her circle.

“The Conclave is destroyed. Everyone who attended it is dead… Except for _you_.” The finger pointing at her felt rather damning and not too far from being the final word. There was a pause though, a breath that hung in the air, that indicated she had a chance to speak, a choice.

Asala blinked up at her as other images, translucent and swift like a wisp in the Fade, ran by her, superimposed over the dungeon in front of her. Those of her kith who’d all come here. And then a multitude of other faces, mostly human but some elven and, fewer still, dwarves. No…

“What… What do you mean?” Her control wavered at the edges, like air under a hot sun, but held. “All those people… dead?” She couldn’t mean that. Right?

The woman’s pale eyes narrowed as she glared at her prisoner, then she snatched up Asala’s hand. “Explain _this_ ,” she bit out just as it sparked and flared, sending a painful thrum through her nervous system. One side of Asala’s face twitched at the sensation but that was all. It wasn’t that bad, not when you knew what to expect. The worst was always the anticipation and the unknown. It tightened muscles and nerves, made them run with caustic liquid worthy of the same sort of careful treatment as gaatlok.

“I… I can’t.” What else could she say?

“What do you mean you _can’t_?!”

She guessed the woman had the right to be enraged if she was the… sole survivor? How? Of all the people at the meeting… conclave, how could she have been the sole survivor? She doubted that was something that’d go over well; a question for a question. “I don’t know what that is, or how it got there.” She tried to convey with her eyes, the only non-threatening body language she dared afford herself, that she honestly didn’t know and was devastated at the news put before her.

“You’re lying!”

Harsh hands gripped the front of her tunic, something someone had obviously thrown on her over her usual clothes. She’d wondered at that. Did they think she was cold? She was Qunari… well, she was… She’d never gotten to terms with what to call herself and while she could feel the power in the human woman’s arms, the restrained force almost ready to unleash, she didn’t go very far because… Well, she _was_ Qunari, Tal-Vashoth, kossith, whatever term she applied, she was still built like one of her race. Apparently the other woman, quiet until now, disagreed because of Asala’s lighter frame or anxious expression because she moved up close.

“We need her, Cassandra,” the hooded redhead reminded her companion as she pulled her a few steps back. A meaningful silence filled the seconds that followed as the black haired woman, Cassandra apparently, pulled herself back and regained her calm, at least most of it, on an almost visible level. Asala wasn’t sure if her work with children had given her great abilities to read people or if the woman was just that passionate. Maybe a bit of both. At times, in these human lands, it seemed that she could read the people surrounding her like a book. Her kith, almost all of them, said they couldn’t pinpoint why, but they always felt calmer around her, more secure. She hoped they never got to know why. It'd be worse than awkward.

She’d blamed it on her soothing personality and magic, as well as her healing abilities. She’d never told them, never been able to force herself to be completely honest even with those she fought beside and were so close to. She was not Vashoth. She had not grown up among humans. She was just like most of them; _Tal_ -Vashoth. She’d been a tamassran once. She’d been late into her magic and even when it came… it had been subtle, soft, gentle, like a… Like a tama. Like a mother, as the humans would say. She hadn’t realised what it was at first and when she did… she was already deep in her role. Her education regarding child-caring and the aiding those of troubled heart and mind had been complete. She was sixteen and ready to start her duties. She’d been sent to hunt down one of the more energetic children. He’d been in a tree, he’d fallen and she, too late, couldn’t catch him. He’d hurt his leg and she, falling back into the soothing calm ever present at the back of her mind, had stroke his bruised leg, _felt_ the fine crack in the bone mend under her fingertips and…

She’d lied. She’d stroke his head, said it was just fright and the initial shock that had made the pain seem bigger than truly was. He was well. He could walk back with her. He hadn’t questioned her, just stopped crying after a short while and tried out his leg as she coaxed him to. Of course he didn’t question her. She was his tama. She was there to soothe his mind, tell him about the world, how it worked, and kiss the pain away. Her mind, too, had fallen back upon that familiar truth. She was a tamassran; she was there to guide and protect the children. There was nothing wrong with her.

“Do you remember what happened?” Asala blinked, focus reverting to the calm woman coming towards her. “How this began?” It had begun back then, hadn’t it? But that wasn’t what they were asking and even if they had… She would never have told that story, that truth. She would _die_ with that truth unspoken. No… That was just a dream, like she’d decided two years ago when twenty-four and hiding away in the hull of a ship bound for mainland Thedas. The _truth_ of Asala Adaar was that she was born to Tal-Vashoth parents in Orlais. That was it, that’s where it ended.

And this whole mess began.

She tried to recall the dream… nightmare and retell it as best she could. The redhead listened as Cassandra began pacing her circle again. The retelling didn’t last long. She couldn’t even remember most of it herself and she always tried to be honest and true. After all, she’d used up her allotment of lies for a lifetime long ago.

****************

Bound, she followed the warrior through the dungeon, up the stairs and through the quiet, muted halls of what she was recognised as a village chantry. She’d had little reason to enter such buildings before over the two years of being here but made exceptions from time to time. Her biggest exception being the day after she arrived upon Thedosian soil. She’d left the docks behind so quickly the crew had hardly seen her leave and hidden herself in the nearby woods. It’d been summer, thankfully, but a wet night. In the end, she’d gone to the next village over, rather than to stay in the small shipping town, and taken in with the chantry there. She’d stayed for a month, familiarising herself with the language that she’d studied at home under the pretence of it being good to give a child suited for Ben-Hassrath work an early start on Thedosian languages. Lies upon more lies. At times she’d wondered how early she’d actually accepted the possibility of having to leave. _Too early_ , one part of her mind always whispered disparagingly when that question came back. The less she thought of such things though, the more she pretended her life was that of the Vashoth she said it was, the easier it was to believe it. The children had always loved to listen to her speak. For some reason, she could fall into her words, as one of them had once said, make them come alive. The mother at the chantry she stayed at had noted she had a “good imagination”. She guessed that was the same thing.

A rush of pain flaring from her hand up through her arm, making her heart stutter once, tore a cry from throat and interrupted her study of the broken sky above them. It drove her to her knees with its suddenness and made curses parade through her head. Her ears picked up on Cassandra drawing near as she cradled her arm. She was saying something about the broken sky, the Breach as she called it, and the mark on her hand.

“It is killing you.” That made it through. Asala forced her eyes to open and raise her head. “It may be the key to stopping this, but there isn’t much time.” She could see the truth of that statement if her heart had any say in the matter. For a fearful second, she’d almost thought it would stop beating, bursting open in her chest just like the Breach coughed and exploded. Her mark seemed to pulsate in time with the broken sky, harder when it hiccupped and harder still when it coughed like a person with a lung disease. The two were connected then? They seemed to have the same colour. She didn’t dare to linger on the possibilities. She could hear the conviction behind Cassandra’s words but didn’t need it to know the truth for herself. It felt like her magic was always on, trying to shield against and combat the foreign energies running amok within her, always trying to contain them to her hand but failing whenever the Breach hiccupped hard or worse.

 _Maraas shokra. Asit kost say sataa._ She could do this, she could survive. She _had_ to survive long enough to try. Inhaling slowly to erase the linger tremors of pain from her mind, she nodded once. “…I understand.”

The woman blinked at her, surprise written clear on her face. “Then…?” She sounded faintly hopeful, as though she’d thought she’d have to drag her captive all the way, kicking and screaming.

Asala smiled carefully, glad when no energy twitched to life at her muscles moving. “I’ll help. In any way I can,” she assured the other, drawing upon the same energy, same feeling, she used with her charges; she was there, they could rely on her. Nothing was bad or unsolvable when she was near. There was nothing to fear. It even calmed her a bit.

Cassandra helped her to her feet and they set off again. There were many unfriendly eyes on the road out of the tiny village, many hurt and confused hearts crying out for reason, for a source to blame. She knew those looks but usually they weren’t directed at her. She’d had suspicion in spades during her years here, maybe more than was necessary due to her continued use of Qunlat and Qunari clothing where she could get away with it, but it made her feel more comfortable. These feelings though? No, they were new. She’d often soothed them in her charges, explained their cause and directed them but rarely if ever had she felt so many unhappy, questioning and accusing eyes centred on her.

Cassandra continued to explain the situation as they walked and she was grateful for that. Especially since it meant that some, or at least one, of the people that appeared in charge could see beyond grief and confusion to reason. She wasn’t sure how reassuring the fact that a trial would take place was meant to be. She feared that old feelings and new resentment would cloud reason if it took place anywhere near this point in time. However, at the same time, she’d prefer not to be locked up in a dungeon again for an undecided length of time. She wished Shokrakar was there. Between the two of them, they usually managed to walk an acceptable middle path of straightforward bluntness and careful consideration. One time it’d hit her how similar Shokrakar and her relationship was to that of the Arishok and Rasaan but she’d immediately dismissed it. Now it came back to her, lingered for a heartbeat, before she dismissed it again. It wouldn’t avail her now, not without Shokrakar there.

Cassandra mentioned testing the mark before taking it up against the Breach. While she disliked the notion of testing magic she didn’t know anything about, or how to counter or properly shield against if that was even possible seeing how it appeared a part of her, she had to agree to the soundness of knowing what to expect when going up against the real problem. If a tiny detail they might discover through a small trial and error could save her life, and ensure the end to the hole cut into the dam these people called the Veil, then that was good. She’d just prefer to have some sort of… safety mechanism in place. For the first time in her life, she wished for an Arvaarad. If nothing else than to stand behind her and make sure that if she fell but… her body or powers continued, in any way shape or form, to go on without her, that they be stopped. Never, in all her years, had she thought that wish would touch her mind.

A few minutes later and for a second time since waking up, her heart stuttered once, twice!, as she fell to the ground while the wound in the sky raged. Cassandra helped her up again, giving her a sympathetic smile out of one corner of her mouth. “The pulses are coming faster now.” She didn’t have to say anything else. The sympathy was appreciated but it gave the message a dual meaning, Asala thought; one of it being good that it’d hopefully soon be over and the other that they were racing against a clock. A clock in her hand. Although, apologetic was not a suitable emotion either as Cassandra had nothing to be apologetic about. She’d not caused the Breach or the mark on Asala’s hand to appear.

As they were crossing a bridge, a faint tremor quivering through the air set off a warning bell inside Asala’s head. “Teth a!” The words were out of her mouth before she even had the chance to consider the wisdom in using Qunlat around someone whose suspicion regarding her involvement in the Breach simply because of her race. As a great, green ball of fire came hurtling towards them, some part of her mind registered that Cassandra was unlikely to even know what her words meant. Maybe it was redundant, though, as the ball impacted, flinging two poor souls on the other side heavenwards like rag dolls and the masonry began to crumble under their feet.

She landed hard on her side, rolling another few strides before coming to a halt. Cassandra was on her feet just moments before her but there was no time to rest. Another quiver in the air, tingling along up the length of her arm, but _on the inside_ of all disturbing things, was already warning her of the second ball of green flame before it crashed into the frozen river metres in front of them. The ice seemed to boil and froth while still remaining solid and then the demon rose out of the green flames crackling with energy. Entering this world without an existing body to inhabit, all it had to rely on was its own darkly grey, twisted shape that in no way resembled anything of the living world. Disturbing and repulsive at the same time, Asala took a step back, wondering how much would be needed to send it back or destroy it. Would dispelling it work? Somehow she doubted that.

“Stay behind me!” Cassandra called as she charged forward. Whatever qualms or suspicions the woman had towards Asala, she would defend her. At least until they’d reached and attempted to close the Breach it would seem. It was a reassuring thought… until the ground between them began to boil. Asala inched backwards. Cassandra could not have heard it, she realised, because the gap between them lengthened. Using it as an excuse to run never even entered her mind as she looked around and, there! A staff. Some poor soul’s forgotten or lost weapon. It’d have to do. Her own weapon was somewhere only the Prophet knew. She scrambled backwards and snatched it up, sending a thanks to whoever had lost it and a prayer that they were not in the position, or state of vivacity, to need it right at that point.

As the demon dove for her, she erected a barrier. Like anyone with magic, she didn’t need a staff but it made things easier, the path smoother and less strained. She had, after all, never used one before ending up in her mercenary company. Before leaving Par Vollen and even when first landing on Thedas mainland, she had never wanted anything near her that could implicate her hidden fault. It would’ve been to invite danger and she was far from interested in courting it. And so she’d learnt to get by without it. And also not used her magic if she could get away with it, almost slavishly avoided it to be honest. It was easy when there was no conflict around. When you fought for a living, though… not so much, but even within her kith, she’d always preferred to shield and heal them, be the defensive and protective power. It meant her skills in that field were quite advanced by now, to say the least.

The demon crashed headfirst into her translucent barrier but reared back quickly, seeming almost annoyed at how it didn’t bend or shatter. That is, if anyone could read their… “faces”, and that term was being generous. She didn’t move or press forward but her hand began to sparkle with cold, the fine hairs on her digits coming to attention at the drop in temperature. So it was an ice-tuned staff then, she noted as the barrage spell hovered on the brink of release. The demon focused its one, glowing eye on her face then her hand and finally turned around. It flowed over the frozen surface, like only a being with no feet could, towards Cassandra’s unprotected back as she faced off with the first visitor from the Fade. Asala wasn’t sure if the demon thought she’d not attack if it ignored her and normally that was correct. Unless she had another person with her, that is.

“Behind you!” This time she remembered to use the correct language and Cassandra reacted in an instant, moving so that she wasn’t ambushed. Not that the demon was given much of a chance between Asala’s warning and her magic. It didn’t take long to end the two misplaced spirits.

“It’s over.” Asala allowed her relief to spill over into her voice as she walked towards the human.

“Drop your weapon. Now,” Cassandra bit out, levelling hers at Asala despite the fact that her own had already been lowered long before reaching the human. Of course it wouldn’t be that easy. She could read it on a person when negotiation was a possibility. With Cassandra… there was no point in trying for even a word without raising her ire. Asala heaved a small sigh and carefully began lowering the staff to the ice.

“All right, have it your way,” she soothed the woman. One brow twitched on the human’s face before dipping into a frown.

“…Wait!” Asala raised her brows and halted. Hmm, giving immediately yielded results with this one? “You don’t need a weapon, but you should have one. I cannot protect you,” Cassandra conceded to both the situation that had just been averted and to the obvious fact that Asala’s powers made a staff redundant. She gave a nod at her companion anyway as she stood up again, staff in hand.

“Thank you,” she replied, careful to not let it come off as a retort. She needed the woman on her side if this human would be the only… well, the only thing _close_ to an ally she might hope for in the near future.

Cassandra shook her head though. “The path to the temple is not safe, not anymore. I cannot always be at your side to protect you. Neither can I expect you to be defenceless. As such, you could benefit from a staff.” It was true and a lot more than she would’ve hoped for. Asala smiled at the other woman.

“Still…”

Cassandra regarded her silently for a heartbeat before heading towards the shore. She halted after a few steps though, turning. She looked almost, if very faintly, apologetic. “I should remember you agreed to come willingly.” Asala simply inclined her head in acquiescence. Nothing else needed to be said. They set off again after that. Luckily, the Breach had apparently decided to not spit out any more demons in their general direction. That didn’t mean they couldn’t see other balls of flame crash landing like stars across the mountainous landscape. It made Asala worry about where the demons would go if they met no resistance when they landed and who would suffer for it in the end.

As they were climbing a slippery stone stair, the faint but familiar sound of battle began to filter down from somewhere above. Putting an extra burst of speed into their step, they quickly overtook the crest. The reason for Cassandra’s earlier comment about rendering aid became even more apparent when they finally came into view of the fight. A much smaller version of the Breach, like a tear in the very air that allowed the Fade to bleed through in tiny drips, lay as glowing centrepiece to the mess. None appeared to have fallen but if that tear remained there, it would be an ever open doorway for reinforcement. Before anything else though, they needed to clear the field because she couldn't stand there and try to come up with what to do while demons ran amok around them.

Leaving thoughts on what to do about the tear in the Veil for later, Asala followed Cassandra as they rushed into the fray. Well, the warrior did. Asala hung back, throwing out barriers and directing healing energies as well as a few offensive spells. She still had ways to go with healing on the field but the only reason she could do it to begin with was because her kith, Shokrakar in particular, had insisted she master it. Her joining the company had been almost without a question once it became clear that she could heal but later, for effectiveness both in and out of battle, they’d insisted and encouraged her to get better at it. She’d needed a steady source of income and the protection that being with the kith offered had been nice. Not to mention being surrounded by so many of her people and have anyone, really, who understood Qunlat. She may not have enjoyed fighting but for the companionship, security and stability it gave her, she would put her dislikes aside. It was for the good of the company after all.

Between them and the other combatants, the demons were swiftly taken care of. A bald elf whipped around as soon as there were no more hostile targets on the field and headed towards her at a fast clip. He grasped her wrist and hurried them closer to the tear. She assumed there was a reason but honestly didn’t want to get closer. With every step, the hum and crackle across her skin, and especially in her hand, increased.

“Quickly, before more come through!” he urged her and she had a second to wonder what he wanted her to do before he pulled on her arm. A strange tingling shot through her hand as it came in contact with the dancing aura of the tear. It felt like when you put a cold hand in warm water and keep it there until the heat seeps beyond the upper layers of skin and flesh, penetrating you to the very bones and awakening all your nerves from their deep freeze. And then the crackling energy surrounding the tear began to glow, brighter and brighter until a sharp crack resounded! It sucked in its own energies much like a waterfall pulls harshly on a river. And then all was quiet and the air a lot more still. The tear was gone.

 _Wow…_ It was all she could think for a moment before realising that this was what they needed to do to the Breach. Her eyes swept heavenwards before coming back down again and back to the elf who was smiling ever so slightly, apparently pleased.

“What did you do?” she asked carefully, still slightly awed by the whole thing. This wasn’t magic… or, well, it was, in a sense, but nothing she knew about. She hoped it wasn’t dangerous though. She’d loathe to be the cause of one danger being let loose simply to get rid of another.

His smile widened slightly. “ _I_ did nothing. The credit is yours.”

The damnation was also hers, then, if it turned out to be dangerous. But it meant one thing… “Then at least this thing is good for something,” Asala replied with a faintly relieved sigh.

He gave a quick nod. “Whatever magic opened the Breach in the sky also placed that mark upon your hand. I theorised the mark might be able to close the rifts that have opened in the Breach’s wake, and it seems I was correct.” He didn’t appear overly pleased with himself or arrogant, something that was reassuring to her. It meant, hopefully, he was not the kind of magic user who ran around willy-nilly throwing his powers around like it wasn’t a hazard to others. She could work with that. If he knew something more about this thing marring her hand, she’d take almost any help she could get. Almost any because some help could be more _un_ helpful than the other way around.

“Meaning it could also close the Breach itself,” Cassandra spoke as she walked up to them.

“Possibly,” the elf conceded carefully, apparently not willing to make any promises right off the bat. He then turned meaningful eyes onto Asala. “It seems you hold the key to our salvation.” And didn’t that sound scary?

“Good to know!” She blinked and turned. She’d almost missed the dwarf. She so rarely saw or interacted with them that she felt quite unprepared now and not sure what to expect. “Here I thought we’d be ass-deep in demons forever.” A stray thought, questioning if he meant his own height or something closer to hers, zipped through her head but she quieted it. He finished fixing his clothes and, she noticed, walked up to them with a very faint swagger to his step. Confident, then?

“Varric Tethras; rogue, storyteller, and occasionally unwelcome tagalong,” he told her with a smile before winking at Cassandra. There were a million was to read that, Asala conceded and cast a sidelong glance at the target. Cassandra’s glare told her as much as she needed to know about that relationship.

 _Maybe just all part of his style_ , she concluded before inclining her head. “It’s good to meet you, master Tethras.” She almost missed the elf’s muted comment.

“You may reconsider that stance in time,” he said with a small smile. Varric shook his head.

“Aww, I’m sure we’ll become great friends in the valley, Chuckles.” It wasn’t until halfway into his sentence that Asala caught on. He was being sarcastic… or something akin to it. That was something she’d had to quickly learn when she first arrived. Humans, and also elves and apparently dwarves, liked to be sarcastic. It meant she had to listen, very carefully, and read their full bodies as well as eyes, to tell if they were serious about their statement or not. It’d tripped her up more times than she cared to count. She was getting better at it though. Slowly…

“Absolutely not!” Cassandra’s sharp rejection drew her attention. “Your help is appreciated, Varric, but—”

“Have you been in the valley lately, Seeker?” Varric challenged her without hostility. Seeker, that title rang a bell for Asala. She knew, from some of the others in her kith that had been taken on to guard at the Conclave, that there was going to be two of the Divine’s closest advisors present and the Right Hand, as it was called, was a person known as Seeker Cassandra Pentaghast. Everything had been going so fast lately that she hadn’t had the chance to ask for Cassandra’s full name. It’d also seemed rather odd to be inquiring about her station or duty at the conclave since it, well, wasn’t anything anymore. “Your soldiers aren’t in control anymore,” Varric continued before giving her a calm smile as he laid down his last card, obviously knowing he’d already won. “You need me.” From the disgruntled noise Cassandra made, it was clear she could see it, too.

“My name is Solas, if there are to be introductions.” Asala turned towards the elf as he spoke. “I’m pleased to see you still live.” She raised a brow at that, finding the comment odd. Apparently, Varric noticed.

“He means, ‘I kept that mark from killing you while you slept’,” he translated and she shot him a small but warm smile before turning towards the elf.

“Then I owe you my sincere thanks,” she told him with a small bow. “You seem to know a great deal about it. I’d be grateful if you’d share it with me so that I may know what’s attached to me.” Solas’s brows went up a bit, the only indication as to his surprise, but the nod he gave her was decisive. Despite his calm expression, she was fairly certain that he was pleased about her interest. At least if she could read his eyes correctly.

“Solas is an apostate, just like you.”

One corner of the elf’s mouth quirked up. “Technically, all mages are now apostates, Cassandra,” he corrected her without derision, then turned his attention back to Asala. “My travels have allowed me to learn much about the Fade, far beyond the experience of any Circle mage.” He did seem rather proud of that part. Then again, from what she’d heard, the Circles were nearly as cautious about the Fade as she’d always been. It was a worrying thought that the one thing she’d eschewed from all these years would possibly be the one thing that could offer some insight into her current dilemma.

“I came to offer whatever help I can with the Breach. If it isn’t closed, we’re all doomed, regardless of origin.”

Well, that did mean she would have some help, and from someone who had dedicated, if her guess was correct, quite a bit of time to this particular field of study. It was a greater relief than she could tell them. “Then I’m much relieved to have you here, master Solas.”

His brows rose again but quickly went back to their original position as well. “Just Solas is fine,” he corrected her before turning to the Seeker. “Cassandra, you should know; the magic involved here is unlike any I’ve ever seen. Your prisoner is a mage but I find it difficult to imagine any mage having such power.”

Cassandra nodded. “Understood. We must get to the forward camp quickly.”

Asala could appreciate that, the directness and acceptance of Cassandra’s demeanour. It did, however, hit a bit too close to home and she still, at times, ached for the world she’d left behind. She’d long since resigned herself to take what little pieces of her old life that she could find though. As such, Cassandra was a welcome piece, no matter where this ended. With that, they were quickly off again. There was still quite a climb to reach the site where the Temple of Sacred Ashes had once stood.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Maraas shokra. Anaan esaam kost. Anaan esaam aqun. – There’s nothing to struggle against. In peace lies victory. In balance lies victory.  
> Asit kost say sataa. – Be at peace with the world.  
> Teth a – a call for attention, or warning  
> Mind, Asala doesn’t know who Cassandra is until the end and even afterwards she doesn’t know the Seeker’s powers. For that reason, she doesn’t know that Cassandra perhaps could, to some extent, act as an Arvaarad.  
> I know there aren’t any real healing spells or trees in Inquisition (except for Knight Enchanter and unlike in Origins). However, spells just don’t disappear over a decade and there are, apparently, mages who DO heal (according to mother Giselle) so I’m using a mix of spells from all the games but mostly those from Inquisition when I can get away with it.  
> Illustration of Asala: http://jinsei.deviantart.com/art/DAI-Dangerous-soul-577513838


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The push towards the forward camp continues, as does the Breach's magic on its bearer.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Small chapter summaries have been added for more convenient navigations.  
> For those of you who saw all those atrocious misses in the previous chapter, I apologise. It was written in one go as I had a flow going and it was late. I couldn't see my keyboard too well.
> 
> As you may be able to tell, Asala is still rather qunari in her way of thinking but at the same time a kind soul. The combination of the two is what I'm trying to portray instead of just a practical, no-nonsense person as many like to play when doing a Vashoth Inquisitor. (I've also gone down that route just to try it.)

Their path forward was not without obstacles and they ran into demons more than once. However, thankfully, as none of them seemed a stranger to battle, it never proved too much of a challenge. The first moment was a bit awkward for Asala as she tried to figure out what part they all took on the field but it resolved itself quickly.

“You know, we had Qunari in Kirkwall.” They never stopped moving but Asala turned her head to Varric who was hurrying along beside her. “They were your typical cheerless sort,” he continued and she refrained from frowning. While they were more… restrained and less prone to outbursts of emotion, they weren’t all cheerless. Especially not the children, she could testify to that. She didn’t enlighten him to it though. His next words made her worried about where this was going though. “Then they tried to take over the city and kill everyone,” he told her almost conversationally, or… maybe like it was a bad, old memory he’d rather not linger on and just recited as briefly as possible. “But! I’m guessing you don’t actually follow the Qun, do you?” Her heart did a stutter that almost transferred to her step. Actually… “You’re Tal-Vashoth.”

At least he hadn’t accused her of being an obvious follower of the Teachings. “I’m impressed you could tell something like that,” she said with as much of a smile as she could muster. If she could make them lay any suspicions regarding her origins to rest early on, then she’d do it. If she survived to go to a trial, all the better.

“Well, you haven’t quoted a single sentence of the prophet Koslun yet. So, unless you’re trying to stay on the Seeker’s good side, I’d say that’s rather telling,” he explained while Asala considered her words. No, she had not cited the Prophet, at least not word by word. His sentiment, though, that had always been with her. It was ingrained in her soul, no matter how much her magic resided there. She was fairly certain, too, that they would always be with her, no matter how long she stayed in the unenlightened lands or wherever her path took her. She’d stayed with her people for as long as she could, despite her failing, after all.

It was when they began travelling uphill again for the final stretch of mountain that a sharp jolt cut through her hand and raced up her arm, drawing an agonised if muted cry from her lips. The Breach hadn’t even hiccupped that time…

“That… didn’t sound good.”

 _No. No, it didn’t_ , she agreed with Varric. She couldn’t see Solas’s sombre face but heard it well enough in his voice.

“We must hurry.” The unspoken “or else” was left to hang in the air. Cradling her hand to her chest, Asala put a bit more energy and determination into her step, letting that be her only answer.

“There! Beyond that crest is a gate,” Cassandra called out as they set out up a steep stair. A tingle in Asala’s hand and… _something_ gnawing at the back of her mind said there was something else up there, too. She’d never felt this before, or… had she? When they met Varric and Solas? Yes, but that would imply there was another tear, or rift as they kept calling them, up ahead. A loudly crackling sound from up above drew their attention. She could sense the air getting tenser around them as they all drew the same conclusion and hurried up the rest of the steps. Every time she blinked, she could see a green glow behind her eyelids and it kept getting stronger.

“Rift,” she gasped out halfway to the top and for some reason she knew it wasn’t due to the exertion. Something else was pushing the air from her lungs, as though a great fist was squeezing them, inching up inside the length of her ribcage to swallow the breathing apparatus bit by bit.

“You can sense it?” Cassandra called out just in front of her, surprise evident in her voice. Asala realised she’d actually closed her eyes for a longer moment there, here feet continuing on their own. A dangerous thing on an icy stone staircase. She forced them open.

“Yes, I… I think so at least.”

They saw the green glow before they crested the steep incline, heard the rift stutter and tear open. It made Asala wonder, as they arrived just in time to see the demons pour out and the relieved faces of the guards at the closed gate, if the rifts reacted to her presence. If they broke open, like swollen boils, when she drew near, was that more boon or bane? Did it mean that they wouldn’t, or at least were less likely, to break open when she wasn’t in the vicinity? That would mean less demons around and if she could sense the rifts, too, then… It all appeared more manageable, didn’t it? They could control the flow of the battle, as her kith would say.

It was, however, a thought for another time as the demons were slowly but surely taken care off and Solas urged her to use her mark upon the rift. He’d just held it up the last time, so she wouldn’t need to do much more, would she? As she drew nearer, she couldn’t make herself step as close as he’d taken them last time. Shapes were moving in the distance deep within that green, flaming sea that somehow undulated and flared before her eyes, taking up her whole field of sight. Ten paces from it, she stopped. She couldn’t… Her body refused to move closer. She raised her hand and prayed it was enough. Her palm crackled and felt like a concentrated beam of water, like when poured from a height or when putting your hand under the rushing edge of a waterfall, pushed upon the skin. It was uncomfortable but endurable. And then the sensation of that energy being _pulled into_ her palm, as though there was a hole there. She hadn’t had a chance to feel it the last time, or maybe it’d been less then? Was it because Solas wasn’t directing it anymore? She didn’t know and didn’t care beyond having it done and over with quickly. Damned quickly. She spread her fingers further and tried to mentally, magically, pull harder on the energy. It was like she’d just stepped under a real waterfall. The energy flared past her, through her, and beyond but not behind her, just… away. It bled her vision green though and it wasn’t before it was over and the air in front of her still that she realised she’d taken a step back before sinking to one knee. She was holding onto her hand as Cassandra called for the guards to open the gate.

“We’re clear for the moment.” Solas had come up beside her and offered her a smile. She nodded shakily before slowly getting to her feet again. “Well done.” She saved her voice but sent him a smile. She wasn’t sure if it would’ve held up particularly well at that moment anyway.

“Whatever that thing on your hand is, it’s useful.” Varric’s comment, while well meant, wasn’t something she knew whether to agree with or not anymore, in spite of her earlier thoughts on it. She hoped closing the Breach would not be a lot worse. That had not been nice.

Cassandra put a bottle of red liquid in her hand, her eyes insisting, if not forcing, Asala to drink it. She wasn’t hurt but she supposed it couldn’t help. She rarely did partake in potions as she could heal and most of her kith preferred to rely on their own power. At least they knew where that came from and how much there was of it. She agreed with them but downed the potion anyway, lest the Seeker thought she needed to come back and state her request verbally or do more. It tasted green… Asala wasn’t sure if that was her right now or if it was the elfroot these things were made of.

Varric must have seen the look she gave the bottle because he gave her a crooked, sympathetic smile. “At least she isn’t stabbing your books,” he noted and she wasn’t sure what he meant by that. He had introduced himself as a storyteller so perhaps he really enjoyed books, she assumed. In that case, his words were meant in consolation. At least Cassandra wasn’t being too harsh with her or her person. That was… something, right?

An argument was drawing near. Or they were to the argument. Asala looked up from the bottle as she put it where a few other, likewise empty, bottles stood on the ground. The dungeon hadn’t been the brightest place but she was certain that was the redhead from back then. Leliana wasn’t it? She was arguing with a clergy member. She wasn’t sure of his station as few men ministered within the Chantry. At least they’d gotten that nearly right. The argument died away as they drew close though. The man seemed both pleased and not at their arrival. Or perhaps it was just her as he was looking none too happily at her. Asala refrained from sighing.

“You made it.” At least Leliana seemed only relieved about their presence. “Chancellor Roderick, this is—”

“I know who she is.” But not happy about meeting her, that was clear. “As grand chancellor of the Chantry, I hereby order you to take this criminal to Val Royeaux to face execution.” Asala’s blood turned as cold as the air passing over her face and then her body began to run hot as her muscles bunched up in anxiety. At least no one could see it, what with this bulky jacket on. In their rush to get here, she’d completely forgotten about getting rid of it. Her hands and face said she didn’t need it too badly.

“’Order me’?” Cassandra parroted with a sneer, causing Asala to turn and stare at the woman. She quickly reordered her face a heartbeat later. It hadn’t been an open-mouthed gobsmacked affair but it still felt misplaced. Although the Seeker’s gumption felt weirder. Maybe because she was the subject at hand. “You are a glorified clerk, a bureaucrat!” Ah, so that was it. If she understood it correctly from the terminology used, then men within the priesthood didn’t have much power in the end.

“And you are a thug.” Well, the name-calling was unimpressively similar to her old charges… “But a thug who supposedly serves the Chantry!”

“We serve the Most Holy, chancellor, as you well know,” Leliana attempted to get the conversation, if it now could be called that with a clear conscience, back on track. It didn’t seem to help.

“Justinia is dead!” the chancellor declared empathically. His own words appeared to take the air out of him though. At least he appeared devoted to his duty, whether or not that hurt her, Asala could appreciate that. “We must elect her replacement, and obey _her_ orders on the matter.”

“Isn’t closing the Breach the more pressing issue?” Asala asked, both to get back to the important matter and to see just how focused the man could be. He could impress her further and even confess to a man’s usefulness within the—

“ _You_ brought this on us in the first place!” Or perhaps not… She refrained from pointing out she didn’t remember what happened up there, how she got out alive or even that she was the least likely person to go on a _magical_ killing spree. Not unless she was possessed and that… would be more apparent, she was pretty sure. Cassandra stepped up to the man and he heaved a defeated sigh. “Call a retreat, Seeker. Our position here is hopeless.” She hoped the woman didn’t start obeying now. He was a priest, clearly not suited to judge a field of battle.

“We can stop this before it’s too late.”

“How?” He asked the right questions, Asala confessed, but he was a bit too emotional for the situation at hand. Then again, if she compared them all to her kith, they _all_ came off as fairly emotional. “You won’t survive long enough to reach the temple, even _with_ all your soldiers.”

“We must get to the temple,” Cassandra replied adamantly, making Asala wish to smile at her unyielding spirit and blunt directness. “It’s the quickest route.” The conversation seemed to be back on track at least, and back to the practical, as they began to discuss their options and what path to take.

“Listen to me,” the chancellor interrupted with a shake of his head. “Abandon this now before more lives are lost!” His heart was in the right place, Asala conceded, if a bit naïve. If that huge tear in the Veil wasn’t mended, there _would_ be more lives lost. Many more. Almost as if to express its agreement, the Breach let loose a tremor that swiftly turned into a loud crack and flash. Her hand followed suit, the forces running amok through it causing her nerve endings to dance and muscles to contract. It caused the whole lower limb to shake uncontrollably. It also drew the attention of everyone nearby, even without Asala making much of a sound. At least not one that could be heard above the noise around her. She did manage to control her face though. As she grew more accustomed to the feeling, she could slowly but surely learn to ignore part of the pain and odd sensation, at least as long as it wasn’t extremely strong.

Cassandra had turned around and was regarding her. “How do _you_ think we should proceed?” she suddenly asked. Asala blinked at her, surprised.

“I… Why do you ask me?”

“You carry the mark,” Solas pointed out beside her, making her frown. True, but… that still didn’t make it her say.

“You’re the one we must keep alive and since we can’t decide on our own…” Cassandra’s input was a bit more helpful in clearing it up but didn’t make it any easier for her. Asala raised her head to stare at the mountain ahead of them. The temple had been visible from further away when her kith arrived. Now… there was nothing to indicate there’d even been a structure anywhere on its slopes. She finally allowed herself a tired sigh. This was not her call. This was practical action regarding offensive manoeuvres. She tried to bring to mind Shokrakar and imagine what she’d say. It helped. A bit.

“…Charge,” she concluded after what felt like a too long pause. “If we can close that thing, if _I_ can close it, then I’d prefer it to be sooner rather than later.” For everyone involved and not, but she didn’t say that. As unfortunate an affair as it was, the scouts Cassandra had mentioned earlier, lost in a pass up above, had most likely run into demons and were already dead. It was not reason enough to waste soldiers as a distraction, just to lose them _and_ come across a bunch of corpses already cold from the wind and ice. They were scouts and knew the danger in their duty. To add to that thought, if she was with the soldiers, she may be able to heal some of them.

Cassandra nodded, something in her eyes told Asala she agreed with the decision. Asala couldn’t help feeling that if that was the case, she should just have taken the lead and made the call herself. She seemed well suited for that, and had proven capable before this. “Leliana,” she called out as she turned to her companion, “bring everyone left in the valley. _Everyone_.” The other woman nodded and set off as Cassandra took the lead once again.

“On your head be the consequences, Seeker,” the chancellor annoyed words followed them as they left the bridge behind.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Short but it seemed a fitting place to break. Next one will be longer.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Breach is confronted.

They moved swiftly after that, following Cassandra as she led the way. As the neared a small encampment however, that same sense of pushing and pulling, like a wave, drowned out the priest talking to some soldiers. There was a rift close by. When she mentioned as much to Cassandra, the human’s face took on a look of steel and her strides lengthened, sped up. The green light bleeding faintly through a gate up ahead confirmed her suspicions and what that sensation truly was. Moments later, Cassandra cursed, making Asala wonder if they couldn’t see the green glow of the rifts on the same distance as she could. Was the mage, Solas, able to?

They rushed through the gate and on to engage the demons that, by the looks of it, had been attacking some of the soldiers holding the line for a while now. The soldiers looked haggard under the harsh glare of the rift but whenever they cast a glance towards one of their number, standing steady and unrelenting through it all, they seemed to perk up just that tiny little bit.

 _A man in charge?_ Asala guessed. Like Cassandra then? From the soldiers’ reactions to his seemingly never faltering offense, that assumption would appear correct.

It was unnerving how fast she was getting used to fighting the demons and to read, and properly work with and support, the human, dwarf and elf. And then something new dropped out of the rift. Or maybe dropped was the wrong word. Its legs, spindly in appearance and reminding her much of a colt, seemed to have no problem as far as mobility went and its face… Did it even _have_ eyes? It creeped her out. She wanted it nowhere near her.

Something seemed to be on her side this day, though, as the gangly thing was quickly mobbed by Cassandra and the commanding man with his fur-hooded coat, Varric studiously attempting to put a bolt through its brain for lack of eyes. Between the three of them, the monstrosity was dead before long. That left the rift and Asala grimaced lightly before moving closer to it. Not as close as last time though, testing the distance she could interact with it to see how it would work out with the Breach because that thing was… way up there.

It didn’t take long for the sense of a waterfall rushing into her hand to appear and the energy, particle by tiny, glowing particle, rushed towards her hand. She had to stop looking at it. She could feel her sight, if not her physical eyes, being drawn deeper into the energies, beyond the green glow, when she focused on it while engaging the rift. It was as though it wanted her to see beyond the power and glow, to come closer or even further. The resounding crack and flare was a welcome din as it disrupted the mesmerising effect. Solas walked up to her and gave her a nod. “Sealed, as before,” he confirmed. “You are becoming quite proficient at this.”

“How much do you sense when you draw near them or stare at them?” Asala blurted out, surprising both herself and, it would appear, the elf. Why he was surprised, she didn’t know. Maybe he was expecting her to care less for the reason and details behind the rift and the power.

“Energies usually restricted to great deposits of lyrium or while dreaming,” he answered her question. “If you wish to share, I would be interested in hearing what you sense later.” She nodded gratefully but couldn’t shake the apprehension that their experiences were vastly different. All she could hope for was that his scholarly pursuits could aid her in having even a small part of it explained. Or give some suggestion on how to control or mute it.

Behind them, the two warriors were conversing but their voices growing louder indicated they were coming closer. “Do not congratulate me, commander. This is the prisoner’s doing.”

Asala blinked and turned, finding them both facing her. Well, Arishok, a commander, that did explain it. “Asala Adaar,” she supplied as the man took her in. He gave her a nod.

“I hope they’re right about you. That you can close the Breach.” His addition of the latter must have been because of her questioning look. She didn’t know what had been said when she wasn’t near and seeing as she was their prisoner and only suspect to the Conclave’s destruction… anything could’ve been said, really. “We’ve lost a lot of people getting you here.”

That wasn’t comforting to hear, especially since there were no guarantees for anything. The energies of the smaller rifts pushed at her sense and defences already when she closed them. There was no saying what the big one would do. She was just as likely not able to do anything about it or, worst case scenario, she made it worse or dropped dead. If she was the only one with any sort of influence over the rifts, then her dying would avail no one. “I can’t promise anything, but I’ll try my best,” she caution. Silently, she agreed with him. She hoped they were right, too. Whatever they’d said.

The man gave a curt nod though. “That’s all we can ask for.”

Yes, he was much like the Seeker.

They moved quickly after that as the commander saw to his warriors. It made her unwilling to leave, in case more rifts opened, but the likelihood of none opening at all if they could seal the Breach made her push the desire aside. It felt like a breach of her duties to leave them but they weren’t children and what needed healing, if it could be called that, more than anyone or thing right now was the sky.

As they approached the charred and cracked foundations of the temple, Cassandra told her it was there she’d been found. Whoever the woman that had apparently been stuck behind in the Fade was, Asala hoped she’d found another way out, if she now was of the real world, or, if she didn’t, that she died quickly and painlessly. For a normal person to be stuck in the Fade must be a frightening experience and for someone with magical abilities… No. That was just dangerous, no matter who they were.

They took what remained of the stairs leading down into the belly of the foundation, passed through corridors with no ceiling and sometimes hardly any walls, and all around them, corpses. Burnt, charred, some even looking petrified, like macabre statues carved in wood that a fire had then ravaged into a bare skeleton. It was disturbing. There was something else though, something almost familiar about the corridors they passed through. She couldn’t say what but— and then it didn’t matter anymore. They’d arrived in what most likely had been a large, underground chamber of some sort. What was left now was the bare bones, and a big rift that looked different from all the rest she’d seen so far. It looked almost… calm. It felt calm, too. No crackle or hissing, spitting or glowing flares but also, she realised, no whispering. It hummed, yes, but nowhere near what the other rifts had been like. It was like the eye of a storm, a calm that only appeared dreadful if you looked about and saw the forces of nature ravage your surroundings, leaving you no way out. Trapped in a sanctuary you had no way of knowing how long it’d hold, or if it’d move with the storm, keeping you eternally captive.

“The Breach is a long way up,” Varric noted quietly, almost reverently, his voice filling the silence without breaking it, because breaking it almost seemed to portend the release of the storm high above.

“You’re here!” the relieved voice behind them made Asala turn. Leliana was jogging towards them. “Thank the Maker,” she uttered more as a phrase, a reflex, rather than with any pressing need to express her gratitude to her creator.

Cassandra, ever practical, gestured to the balcony surrounding the chamber that, before the explosion, had probably been connecting hallways or just bedrock. “Leliana, have your men take up positions around the temple.” The other woman nodded and headed back to the soldiers who’d arrived with her.

In the quiet, Asala stared at the stable rift. Faint, translucent ropes of energy lazily danced between it at the bottom of the chamber and its bigger counterpart miles above. Earlier, she’d thought it comfortably quiet here compared to the other active rifts but now she realised it really wasn’t. Staring at it, the rift didn’t try to draw her in but she could hear the mumbled whispers more clearly. Still not clear enough to discern any words or even if there was a specific language being used. It was… more unnerving than the open rifts, honestly. If she concentrated further she might actually—

“This is your chance to end this.” Asala almost jumped, her muscles twitching under the jacket, at Cassandra’s voice suddenly behind her. Had she…? She hadn’t meant to stare that intently, hadn’t meant to, she realised with slight horror, get this close to the edge and lean towards the thing. Was it that the active rifts, while appearing more forceful, actually were less so? Did this stable rift whisper louder, more compellingly because it didn’t have wild energies interrupting it? Or was it perhaps because there were no wild energies to distract _her_ that it was so effective? “Are you ready?”

Cassandra’s question gave her the reason to turn away from the rift that she needed to motivate her limbs to move. “I’m not even sure how to start, much less how to get up to that thing.” Not that she wanted to get closer to the big one. It may not be stable, like the one down here, but the active rifts hadn’t been any fun to be close to either. Maybe the size meant the distance she had to close before being able to interact with it lessened…

“No. This rift was the first and it is the key,” Solas interrupted, smashing her hopes of not having to get closer to it. “Seal it, and perhaps we seal the breach.” ‘Perhaps’ was better than nothing at all, she guessed.

“Then let’s find a way down,” Cassandra concluded and turned to survey the open space. “There, possibly,” she said after a moment, pointing to the far side, almost obscured by the remains of a pillar. The drop over there seemed less harsh and with jagged and jutting rocks, it also seemed to give a fairly easy way back out again, too.

“Be careful now. There are still loose stones and sharp projections around here,” the human warned as they began picking their way around the edge. She was more than correct. The biggest ones, large, jagged pieces of the wall, like spears blackened by magical flame, protruded everywhere. It was a disturbing scene that, in a sense, had more right being in the Fade than here where everything was more orderly, more rational.

And then it turned even _more_ surreal.

“Now is the hour of our victory.” The voice was soft but echoed in the empty space, bringing them all to an abrupt halt. Solas was regarding the rift with far more calm than Asala currently felt. “Bring forth the sacrifice.” The voice made her nerves bunch between her shoulder blades, her muscles tightening uncomfortably. She couldn’t say if it was because of the place or because she should recognise the speaker.

“What are we hearing?” Cassandra rasped as she looked around, hand gripping the hilt of her sword. Asala didn’t blame her, but there was no enemy around. None that could be struck with steel anyway.

“At a guess?” Solas told her calmly, eyes narrowing at the rift. “The person who created the Breach. The Fade bleeds into this place, giving glimpses of what happened.” At Cassandra’s astonished look, Solas shook his head. “I can’t tell you any more than that. This isn’t a common phenomenon, not on this scale. It isn’t even uncommon. It’s worse than rare. Great battles and losses of lives can leave an impression upon a place, allowing spirits easier access to it, but for past moments or voices to be seen or heard? No, I haven't come across that before.” The woman nodded, clearly wanting more information and frustrated there was none. They could do nothing but press on.

Halfway along the improvised balcony they came across a red, glowing crystal of monstrous proportions. Asala stared. Faint flickers of energy, thin as a string, seemed to dance around it.

“You know this stuff is red lyrium, Seeker,” Varric spoke. It was news to Asala but clearly not to Cassandra.

“I see it, Varric.”

“But what’s it _doing_ here?” he pressed, coming to a _very_ important and clearly poignant point.

“Magic could have drawn upon lyrium beneath the temple, corrupted it…” Solas deliberated aloud but he trailed off as though he wasn’t sure of that suggestion himself.

Varric made a noise that was neither agreement nor disagreement. “It’s evil,” he said unhappily, almost accusingly, as though the glowing crystal could hear him. If it could, Asala doubted it felt any remorse. “Whatever you do, don’t touch it,” the dwarf cautioned. He didn’t even have to tell her that.

“Keep the sacrifice still.” They didn’t have to go far before that softly echoing voice was back again, creeping down Asala’s back like icy fingers and making her harshly roll her shoulders to keep from shivering. She wasn’t even cold. Truthfully, she was hot but the jacket was something to dig her fists into. It kept her from brutally gripping her staff. It was probably made for a female elf, she assumed, because the design was light enough for her to fear it breaking if she actually twisted her hands around the wood too roughly.

“Someone, help me!” They all twitched to a halt at that. That hadn’t been the same voice. It had even sounded familiar to Asala.

“That is… Divine Justinia’s voice!” Cassandra’s distress was audible. If they were about to hear the Divine’s murder, or worse, then Asala wished the voices would stop this instant. As the Right Hand, and judging on this reaction, Cassandra appeared to be fairly close to her faith’s Ariqun. Nothing else followed however, leaving the air still and silent. The place was beginning to feel a bit like a grave though.

They came around to the tiered end of the walkway and, after everyone had gathered, made their way down to the ground below. Moving carefully, they closed in on the rift but the closer Asala got, the more her hand shivered and crackled with the energies from the rift until her limb flickered to brightly glowing life. The rift seemed to react to the proximity of the mark, buzzing like beehive you’d just shaken but whose exits had been blocked off; angry and insistent.

“Someone, help me!” The echo of the Divine’s voice came again and for an infinitesimal moment, faint vertigo assailed Asala. She thought she saw a corridor moving all around her but when she blinked, it was gone.

“What’s going on here?” She had never heard her own voice before. Not like that anyway. It was… weird. Her hand continued to crackle, almost resonating on a higher frequency to the stable rift’s energy.

“That was your voice.” She didn’t turn to where Cassandra stood behind her but let her attention linger on the rift. This close to what Solas claimed to be the original, would she remember what happened before that nightmare? “Most Holy called out to you, but—” The woman halted abruptly as the rift suddenly crackled to life. It expanded, a faint aura preceding it, like that of a thunder storm which causes the birds to fly low and fast, seeking shelter. They all began backing up as the rift showed no intention of stopping and then a flare of bright light filled the space, blinding but so swift it only left afterimages when you blinked but not stealing your vision. What appeared in the murky air before them, though, was too important to miss.

Asala had never gotten too close to the Chantry’s Ariqun before the Conclave started, not as far as she could remember, but from Cassandra’s gasp, she guessed the transparent woman suspended in the air was indeed the same person. She was old and despite the worry and fear distorting her features, some part of her bearing, her whole visage, remained regal, composed. Few things beyond her were clear though. A great shadowy being, eyes aglow and body distorted, both broad and gangly at the same time, like how demons never understood what shape was “correct” when they came into this world, appeared at the edge. And then, from another direction, faint at first but moving swiftly came another form. Asala’s golden eyes widened as the shape consolidated into her, repeating the same sentence from earlier.

“Run while you can!” The woman’s thick yet flowing accent couldn’t hide the urgency or anxiety behind her request. “Warn them!” Asala could see the minute hesitation on her own face and, despite not remembering any of this and now watching it as a third party, feeling the need to do as told and stay and aid the elder. As a tamassran she’d been under direct leadership of the Ariqun and this woman was as close as the south got to it, as she’d understood it.

“We have an intruder.” The voice didn’t sound troubled, only faintly annoyed at the interruption as the hulking shadow turned to point at her transparent self. “Slay the Qunari.” The vision crumbled in a flare of bright, green-tinted white light that went as fast as it came, leaving the air static and buzzing. It made Asala wonder if anyone else heard, or even felt the energies rushing around them.

“You _were_ there!” Asala wasn’t sure if Cassandra’s voice held more accusation or hope for any possible answers being forthcoming. “Who attacked? And the Divine, is she…?” The human didn’t finish it and didn’t linger on the thought. “Was this vision true? What are we seeing?!” she demanded, as though Asala would know the answer to that question any more than the warrior. The need written plain on the woman’s face was achingly familiar to Asala. It was rare that, when faced with such a face, she didn’t have an answer to give but the recent hours had been far from ordinary. She shouldn’t feel bad for not knowing the answer, she understood that, but she still _wanted_ to have one to give.

“I don’t remember!” she insisted helplessly as Solas walked past them and closer to the rift. His voice floated back to them, calm and clear, as he gave a short explanation for the nature of the Fade imprinting upon the real world.

“This rift is not sealed, but it is closed,” he told them as he finally turned his back on the glowing knot of energy. “Albeit temporarily,” he added an additional warning as he focused his eyes on Asala. “I believe that with the mark, the rift can be opened, and then sealed properly and safely.” She gave a tentative nod, hoping that opening such a thing would be as easy as closing them. Never mind that she had no wish to open it to begin with. But if they needed to seal it to stop the Breach then there was no other way around it, was there? “However, opening the rift will likely attract attention from the other side.” The elf’s cautioning words were not a comfort.

At Cassandra’s call, the soldiers who’d arrived with Leliana began to spread out, archers taking up key positions on the balcony surrounding them to make sure there was no blind spot caused by the huge pillar. At Cassandra’s nod of finality, Asala took a steadying breath and slowly raised her hand. Solas had said it was like sealing a rift, only push the flow of energy in the opposite direction. The damnation as well as the salvation was in her hands.

“Ebasit shok ash kost. Ataash esaam katoh,” Asala breathed under her breath, once, twice, as she tried to steady her nerves. She could do this, she _had_ to do this, and then it’d be over. “Asit tal-eb.” Opening eyes she’d closed as she gathered herself, Asala pushed at the energies crackling in her palm. They gave way uncomfortably fast, thick strings of power crackling with magic shooting from her hand to connect with the rift almost as if drawn to it, as if they belonged together. In a sense, she guessed they did. It was just that the tension in the air created by the connection between her mark and the rift was an almost electrifying power, and it just kept on building and building and— Then it snapped.

A flash of light and energies shot wildly out of the rift as it bloomed with the ferocity of a too long tormented and held back animal. The energy didn’t leave the ruins though, they came back, at a speed and accuracy reminding Asala of a barrage spell. They centred on one point and then another beam, stronger, brighter, shot from the rift, all of them crashing into each other at once in a green light so bright that it bled into pale yellow and finally white at its core. The light changed shape and began to darken quickly, forming and consolidating the shape of a hulking demon. She’d never seen anything so big from the Fade and it caused cold thrills to race up her spine. The monstrosity landed with a loud thud before shooting to its feet with a liquid speed its huge shape should not have had at its disposal. Then again, she’d heard some humans say the same of her people when they saw her kith do battle.

“Now!” Cassandra’s cry to charge set loose a volley of arrows as the demon let out a roar, the arrows bouncing off its hardened hide. Would blades even pierce that, Asala worried as she repositioned herself to fully face the visitor. What had they let loose? What had _she_ allowed to get out?

 _“Control the field, never give up and hit it low and hard. That works on any enemy.”_ She allowed Shokrakar’s words from one of her first fights with the Valo-Kas kith to wash over her. _Never give up_ , she repeated before drawing upon her magic to erect a barrier around Cassandra.

Steel flashed on all sides of the demon and while it didn’t appear to do much at first, it slowly became apparent that it _did_ do more than just annoy it. That is, until green sparks began to fly whenever a blade hit and arrows began to bounce off before even touching hide.

“Attempt to disrupt the energies between the rift and the demon!” Her head snapped around to Solas a few metres away, ice crystals misting the air around him from the spell he’d just cast.

“What!?”

“Just like earlier,” he urged her, throwing her a quick but confident glance. “They seem to feed its defences. We need them stripped or at least not as powerful.” Or there was no winning this, he didn’t have to say it. She gave a curt nod and backed away, closer to the rift, as quickly as she could without taking her eyes off the brute.

“All right…” she mumbled to herself as she, at last, had to tear her eyes away. “All right.” She took a steadying breath and raised her hand, tugging on the energies in the air around her and then, fisting her hand in the power bleeding from the rift, _jerked_! She heard as well as felt the roar of the demon as the rift’s power began to pour into her hand. It must be working then. She didn’t dare take her eyes of the rift as the angry hum around it grew and grew at the same pace that energy poured out of it. It had to run out of power soon, it just _had_ to! Someone was shouting something… somewhere. She couldn’t tell who or what, the din of the rift was filling her ears. She could feel it strain now, trying to hold onto its connection to both her and the demon. One would give soon. She’d make sure it was the demon’s—

A snap, a crack, a rushing sound and something moving too fast for the eye to catch rushed by. Then another, louder, crack that reverberated in the air around her… or inside her head, she couldn’t tell. Someone was yelling again, short and sharp. Did it fail? No, she felt the power in the rift snap and break down. Something was moving above her, a pale ellipse with a bright, green light as a backdrop.

“Adaar!” It sounded so distant but moving closer fast, too fast a speed for a mortal to be running at. Something was touching her scalp, searching, through her long tresses still locked in a braid at the base of her neck. “They are not attached to any blood vessels as far as I can tell.”

“They what?” Her voice sounded both slow and soft, too low to overpower the din on a field of battle.

“You are awake!” She recognised it as Solas’s voice; he sounded both relieved and surprised. The ellipse finally morphed into a face and the hand on her scalp moved to her back, helping her into a seated position. “We must press our advantage. You must collect yourself.” There was an urgency to his voice that made her try and focus her swimming vision of light and moving shadows. Something hard was lying across her lap. Looking down, it came into focus far easier than the moving surroundings. Her borrowed staff lay there. Clutching it in unsteady hands, she tried to look up again. The scene stopped moving a lot faster this time around. The demon was moving around sluggishly, looking more solid than before even if it’d looked perfectly present in this world then, too.

She fought to her feet, using her staff and Solas for support. “Wh-what happened?” She just needed a few seconds more to ground herself.

“It managed to get too close and knocked you across the length of the chamber,” Solas hurriedly supplied as he steadied her before taking hold of his own staff again. “We must help them.” He gave her an apologetic and somewhat sympathetic look, as if to say sorry for pressing her into action after a treatment that sounded more reserved for a ragdoll. She gave a weak nod. He took it as she meant it and went ahead of her, spell already forming in his hand and the staff aglow with its own energies.

She had to… push on through… Her head was splitting open, or at least that was the sensation that was coming back to her first now that she could see. The rest of her body felt numb, except for her entire back that was sore. Asala pushed forward, one unsteady step at a time, as she gently cradled her head with her marked hand. The demon was bleeding now. Or something similar to the action anyway. The liquid seeping out of its wounds looked syrupy thick but after dripping a few inches from its source, the liquid misted and floated away before dissipating in the air.

Pulling on her power, she raised her staff and let loose a salvo of elemental blasts at the demon. By the time she reached Varric and Solas, she’d managed to remove her hand from her head as well. It took a lot out of them but finally, _finally_ , the demon dropped to the ground.

“Now! Seal the rift!” Cassandra’s cry brought Asala’s attention over to the woman and she nodded. Here was to hoping she could seal it and that it took care of the demon somehow because it seemed almost too powerful to contend with. As the energies began to flow into her hand once again, the drain upon her own mind began to intensify. The rift just kept growing larger and larger, brighter and brighter, no matter how much she pulled. For a moment she feared she wouldn’t be able to close it, that she’d keel over first, and then it exploded in light. A pillar of brightness shot heavenwards straight into the Breach above their heads…

And then it went dark.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ebasit shok ash kost. Ataash esaam katoh. – It is a struggle to seek peace. (But) glory/fulfilment is found in the achievement (of it).  
> Asit tal-eb. – "The way things are meant to be." or "It is to be." A driving principle of the Qun.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In the aftermath of the disappointing, but not failed, try to seal the Breach, an important declaration is made.

A soft but insistent light was assaulting the lids of her closed eyes. Her brows twitched and then dipped in a frown. Why was it quiet? Forcing her eyes to open, a laborious affair, it took a moment to realise what she was looking at were the darkened rafters of a wooden hut. Turning her head to the side, she took it all in. There were no ropes or chains in residence so she assumed she could rule out prisoner. Unless she’d upgraded prison cells while out because she’d managed to close the Breach. Or she wasn’t alive anymore. No… she decided in the end as she looked down at herself, she was probably still alive. Someone had stripped off her clothes before putting her in the clean bed. By the feel of it, she was down to her smallclothes. She was fairly surprised they’d managed to figure out the closure mechanism of her collar, not to talk about the knots on her belt and arms. Kaariss even cursed them in his poems sometimes, so that said something. The thought of her kith made her smile though. A not so happy thought was that she would have to inform Shokrakar about the casualties.

The sound of a door opening kept her from sighing and instead had her turning towards it. An elven woman carrying a box came walking in… only to promptly drop it in surprise. “Oh!” Asala quickly sat up, taking care to not drop the cover. She’d come to realise very shortly after her arrival to the mainland that humans and elves, possibly also dwarves, were rather finicky about the undressed state. Then again, if you relied heavily on clothes to not be cold, she guessed that, in the end, clothes would take on a meaning of their own, just like anything else did. Garments had just taken on different meaning among the Thedosians compared to those under the Qun.

“I didn’t know you were awake. I swear!” Asala blinked at the hurried explanation as the woman backed up a few steps. The fear in her voice, however faint, made Asala worried. Smiling gently, she went for soothing. It usually worked.

“You don’t have to be afraid. It’s all right. I only—” She was interrupted by the slip of a woman falling to her knees. That… wasn’t what she expected.

“I beg your forgiveness and your blessing. I am but a humble servant.” Asala kept an eye on the elf as she carefully scanned the one-room house again for her clothes. This was just getting weirder by the minute and she’d prefer to be clothes if she’d suddenly need to go in search of answers. “You’re back in Haven, my lady,” the other woman continued. “They say you saved us. The Breach stopped growing, just like the mark on your hand.” That got Asala’s full attention and she cast an eye on the aforementioned appendage. It sat there, quietly like before this whole mess began, almost as if nothing ever happened. She could feel a very faint hum from it though, but only when she focused on it. “It’s all anyone has talked about for the last three days.”

Asala looked over at the elf again. At least she wasn’t trying to study the floorboards anymore. She’d also spotted her clothes nearby. Not knowing how long she’d been out of it, she was somewhat grateful for their removal. She hadn’t taken much with her and wasn’t sure if any of it had survived or not gotten lost when the Conclave went skywards. Having her only set of clothes remain fairly clean and fresh would be nice. “We’re safe then?” For a second she was also grateful for the lack of clothes as it, hopefully, made her less intimidating. If she’d still been dressed and just stood up, she thought the elf might try to kiss the floor again. She wasn’t exceptionally tall as far as it went among her people but compared to most humans, and even more so with the elves, she was roughly a head taller. It felt like it was working against her now.

“The Breach is still in the sky but that’s what they say,” the elf said as she cautiously got up. Asala didn’t even try to lighten the situation by saying she wasn’t going to bite. It might just send the woman running at this rate. What _had_ been said after the rift got sealed? “I’m certain lady Cassandra would like to know you’ve awakened.” The elf was now backing towards the door. That was not an improvement. “‘At once’, she said.”

“And where may I find the Seeker?” Asala asked carefully, tilting her head to the side.

“In the chantry, with the Lord Chancellor. ‘At once’, she said.” And then the woman fled. Oh well. It could’ve gone worse, she supposed.

Getting dressed, familiarity with the pieces and knots aiding her speed, Asala ventured out of the hut. And stopped dead in her tracks. There were humans _everywhere_. And a neat path leading up to the hut she’d just exited from. Something had definitely been said while she was out of it. The hush that spread among the crowd was nearly palpable. A hushed whisper here and there reached her ears as she passed. Words like “Herald of Andraste” and “Fade” began to paint a picture when combined with what little she remembered and what Cassandra had told her of when she was found. There’d been another woman behind her, they’d said. That was true, if fuzzy, but their prophet? That seemed like stretching it a bit… Ashaad would’ve laughed. The other Ashaad… she wasn’t sure. He sometimes seemed troubled with the state of the world and the faithful they encountered. It made her wonder if he didn’t, at times, consider what the Chantry priests spoke of. She tried to advice and guide him the best she could. Maybe after all this was said and done, having been close to something so related to the Chantry and its beliefs, she’d be able to better advise him if he still needed it. But only maybe.

The amount of ordinary people grew lesser in number the closer she got to the chantry but up by the doors to the stone building, there were a dozen or so priests instead. In a sense, she found the people easier to deal with in that case. Some seemed to be struck by recent events while others held fast, unmoving in their roles and convictions. Apparently the chancellor she met before was the cause of some of it. It was saddening to hear doubt among the priesthood due to decisions and thoughts from one of their own. At times like these, no matter what, they all needed to stand fast and do their duty to the people, not tear each other down. Until she had the full picture of things, she’d leave her final judgement undecided.

Entering the dimly lit building, torches attempting to offer the place warmth that the temperature outside surely leeched away only metres from its source, Asala let the doors fall closed behind her. Despite being made of thick, sturdy planks, the sound was soft, lending to the overall air of peace. As far as a place for the priesthood went, it was effective. She’d always thought so. Better than any tall, elaborate cathedral. It was calm, peaceful and to the point. Walking down the length of the building, she tried to listen for the woman she needed to find. Maybe she should’ve asked the priests by the door.

“Have you gone completely mad?” She did recognise that voice though. “She should be taken to Val Royeaux immediately to be tried by whomever becomes Divine.” The chancellor was being as stubborn as before and it worried her. Magic controlled the rifts, she was a mage, she had the mark that was apparently the only thing that could affect the Breach on her hand and she couldn’t remember what had happened around the time of the explosion. The most she remembered was from the late morning of that same day. It spoke badly of her.

“I do not believe she’s guilty.” Cassandra’s words, growing louder with each step, were nice to hear but without any proof, who would believe it? Then again, considering there were people who labelled her as the herald of their prophet, proof seemed to be an optional factor. That was being battered by the comment about the Chantry abandoning its priests for some reason though. None of it was reassuring for several different reasons. Heaving a sigh, she walked up to the door where the voices were the strongest.

Walking into the room didn’t make things any better. “Chain her. I want her prepared for travel to the capital for trial.” Asala came to a halt a few steps through the door, noticing the templars flanking it. That was bad—

“Disregard that. And leave us.” The addendum was almost humorous in the sense that the Seeker felt it prudent to remove anyone from the room that may listen to the chancellor. The templars saluted the woman before leaving, taking the door with them as they went.

“You walk a dangerous line, Seeker,” the chancellor said with an unhappy glare.

“The Breach is stable but it is still a threat. I will _not_ ignore it.”

Cassandra might never know how great a relief her words were to Asala and not for any personal reasons. “I do not know what to say,” she confessed as she stepped up to the long table the chancellor and both Hands of the Divine were gathered around. “I did everything I could to close the Breach. It almost killed me.” Even if her death was the end result, if she wasn’t awake to push that last bit, it didn’t matter. She simply wouldn’t be able to push all the way through.

“Yet, you live.” The accusation was just short of tangible. “A convenient result in so far as you’re concerned.”

“Have a care, chancellor.” The Seeker seemed to be nearing her last straw. “The Breach is not the only threat we face.”

The redhead, Leliana, Asala reminded herself, came up alongside the Seeker. “ _Someone_ was behind the explosion at the Conclave, someone Most Holy did not expect.” Her words were meaningful and loaded, as was the stare she gave the chancellor. It started to clear up the picture about the unrest among the priesthood’s ranks. “Perhaps they died with the others… Or have allies who yet live.”

“ _I_ am a suspect?” The outrage and incredulity in his voice was clear as day. What Asala found more astonishing was that any among the priesthood would even _think_ to try something like it. To assassinate the Ariqun… it was a notion beyond ridiculous and possible. It went into the zone of… well, human politics, as Taarlok would’ve said. He dealt with their legal systems often enough so she assumed he understood that part of their culture better than her but… still! It was… It just wasn’t done. You didn’t go and cut your own arm off. This was the same, only much worse.

The humans continued to argue, making Asala miss the, in comparison, fairly uncomplicated relationships and interactions between the members of her kith. Even an evening filled with nothing but Kaariss poems and songs was better than this.

“So her survival, that _thing_ on her hand; all a coincidence?” The chancellor involving her in the matter once again drew her attention back to their conversation. She’d hoped they could solve their mess without her interference or involvement. Half of what she could tell them at this point was certainly not something they wanted to hear, nor would it make the suspicions against her any lower if she appeared overly Qunari, she feared.

“Providence,” Cassandra challenged the man. “The Maker sent her to us in our darkest hour.”

Asala’s brows climbed her forehead. That thing again? It was going a bit too far, too fast. She wasn’t sure about how being the chosen of anything related to their religion went but she knew one thing; it would divide people down the middle. Depending on who won, it was her death sentence they signed with those words. If she was going to die, she didn’t wish it to be because of some improbably, religious reason with no intelligent motivation backing it.

“I… I’m sorry, but are you sure?” They all turned to look at her. Accusing them all of being touched in the head or mentally impaired was not the way to go. She’d have to carefully choose her words in this. “I am… Qunari after all.” How weird that felt to say. For two years straight, she’d been pretending so hard to be something else that claiming the word now made her feel like a cheater, a traitor. Especially since, for all intents and purposes and particularly to those still living fully under the Qun if they’d known about her, she was a Tal-Vashoth. At the same time, though, she couldn’t accept that title. It burnt her mind, near physically hurt. She’d always adhered to the Qun’s principles, short of giving up her initial duty and task when her magic manifested properly, and even when she left she’d applied it as much as she could. Even in the here and now…

“To say the least,” the chancellor agreed with her through clenched teeth, his ire evident.

“I’ve not forgotten,” Cassandra conceded with a nod. Asala didn’t continue for she heard the “but” waiting to follow. She didn’t have to wait long. If nothing else, the Seeker was a woman devoted to her strong principles and morals. It was almost a comfort, even when they clashed with Asala’s own. “But you are what we needed, when we needed it, no matter who or what you are.” Asala acquiesced with a nod. That was true, but still. There was no proof, no logic to it.

Leliana, however, gave a reason Asala could accept to work with. “The Breach remains, and your mark is still our only hope of closing it.” Asala refrained from pointing out that it obviously hadn’t worked the first time around and she had no idea of how to make a better second try.

“This is _not_ for you to decide.”

Cassandra’s reply to the chancellor’s angry words was a book slammed onto the tabletop. “You know what this is, Chancellor?” she challenged with a low but steady voice, pointing at the thick tome. She didn’t so much growl but the effect was present in her posture and eyes. “A writ from the Divine, granting us the authority to act.” When he didn’t respond, the air grew more potent around the table. Something was coming…

“As of this moment, I declare the Inquisition reborn.” Asala blinked. Maybe she should have read more history during those first months on the mainland. She had no idea what the Inquisition was but feared she soon would on a very personal level. In the meantime, Cassandra had wasted no time. She stalked after the poor clergyman as he moved away from her. “We will close the Breach, find those responsible, and we _will_ restore order. With or without your approval.” The chancellor gave her a hard look but there was apparently nothing more to say. He left with an ominous silence that was only broken by the sound of the heavy door shutting behind him.

“This is the Divine’s directive; rebuild the Inquisition of old. Find those who would stand against the chaos and not falter.” Leliana’s gaze as she raised it to meet Asala’s was meaningful. Despite there only being the three of them in the room, the declaration held the weight and power of something that could change the course of a nation. “We aren’t ready,” the woman allowed for a heartbeat of lamentation for their current state. It sounded like they were going to war without even knowing who their enemy was, much less where it was coming from, _and_ they weren’t ready for it. In any way. That was probably closer to the truth than Asala cared for. “We have no leader, no number, and now no Chantry support.”

Asala agreed; they weren’t ready. If the Arishok had declared any campaign under such circumstances, he would’ve been stared out of the building. That, or asked if he had lost his mind.

“But we have no choice; we must act now,” Cassandra stated before turning to Asala. “With you at our side.”

“What is… the ‘Inquisition of old’ exactly?” Asala asked because she needed to know now. She wasn’t sure if she had a choice in the matter of whether she rendered them aid or not and she feared it was the latter. To say it could prove unhealthy for more than her if this Inquisition was a less than acceptable thing was an understatement. She didn’t wish her kith or the Qunari as a whole to end up in the crossfire of human politics and greed.

“It preceded the Chantry,” Leliana answered the question. “They were people who banded together in a world gone mad.” The world had already been mad on certain points on mainland Thedas. She didn’t say it though, at least not yet.

“After, they laid down their banner and formed the Templar Order,” Cassandra continued but then grimaced, “but the templars have lost their way now. They aren’t doing what they should; protect the people, both those without and _with_ magic. We need those who can do what must be done united under a single banner once more.”

“Isn’t that what the Chantry is supposed to do?” She wanted to make a statement of it. The priesthood was meant to lead by example and declare the rules that the others followed. She knew that was the case here, too, at least to the greater degree.

Cassandra smothered an ironic laugh. “What should be and what is are sadly far apart at the moment.” It shouldn’t have been though, Asala felt. If there was any reason to the matter, and to those involved in it, then it shouldn’t be this difficult to do the right thing.

“The Chantry will take time to find a new Divine, and then it’ll wait for her direction,” Leliana explained the situation. Asala almost retorted that they should already have had a successor trained. One could never plan for the future, not completely, and with their Ariqun so old, always an elder, then they should always have a successor trained, not wait until the current one was dead. How did a nation continue if its ruler just suddenly disappeared? How did a person continue to function if the spirit, mind or body suddenly stopped? The answer was; it didn’t. Foolish.

“ _We_ , however, cannot wait,” Cassandra stated with finality. At least that was a solid and logical sentiment. “So many grand clerics died at the Conclave. No, we are on our own. Perhaps forever.”

 _Or however long this Inquisition now would be needed anyway,_ Asala concluded. There was one other matter though… “You sound like you’re preparing for an actual war.”

Cassandra shook her head. “We are already at war. _You_ are already involved, it’s mark is upon you.”

“And will this be a holy war?” If anyone thought her people were involved, when, as far as she could tell, there was no reason for them to be, it could go from bad to worse quickly. If just a bit of thought was applied, the Breach itself with its magical nature ruled them out.

Cassandra didn’t look doubtful when she replied. “That depends on what we discover.”

Asala sighed. That was not an insurance, but then… nothing would be, for nothing could be stated with surety. “When I woke up, I certainly didn’t picture this outcome,” she said at last.

Leliana gave her a wry smile that said more clearly than anything; no one had expected it to go like this when the Conclave was declared.

Cassandra turned fully towards Asala, holding out a hand. “Help us fix this. Before it is too late.”

Asala regarded the hand and then up to meet the Seeker’s eyes. There was no other way, was there? She had the magic that could affect the Breach in her hand and maybe, just maybe, if the Qunari or Tal-Vashoth were accused of anything, then she could hopefully diffuse it. This was not something she was prepared for, and even less so, she guessed, than either of the two humans in the room were to call the Inquisition into being. This was not ideal no matter how she twisted the word and she didn’t seem to have a way out of it. Refraining from releasing the sigh hiding in her lungs, she took Cassandra’s hand and shook it, giving the woman the faintest of smiles. What else could she do? At least she had some people around her that seemed able enough and more prepared for the task than she.

A stray thought slipped past her subconscious; had she known this would happen two years ago, would she still have left or, at long last, handed herself over to the re-educators? She honestly couldn’t say.

“Also, I wish to say… sorry.” Cassandra both sounded and looked uncomfortable, their hands still clasped together.

“For what?”

“Your, ah…” She seemed at a loss for how to continue. “You have not seen?” she asked tentatively, causing Asala to frown. “Your…” Cassandra let her hand go to gesture in at her own head, something that deepened Asala’s frown. No, she hadn’t noticed anything different, she thought as she raised her own hands. Her braid, while abused from having been slept on, had been whole when she awoke. She’d redone it before leaving the hut but that was all. As Cassandra’s expression grew more tense when her fingers came in contact with her horns, she began trailing them up the erect lengths with mounting dread. She could see it in Cassandra’s eyes, as well as feel it, when she came to their midway point. They… H-her horns… She felt her own eyes widen in disbelief and horror as the soft pads of her fingertips scraped over the abrupt end to their vertical rise and the jagged surface she found there.

“They took the burnt when the demon threw you. You would most likely have gotten a concussion, or worse, had they not been there,” the Seeker hurried to explain as she numbly kept fingering the stumps. They were still a good six and a half inches from the bases on her skull but… but! But still! She—!

She nodded mutely so that Cassandra didn’t start asking if she was all right. She… didn’t have an answer for that question after all.

“They do not detract any from your appearance,” Leliana assured her gently. Asala wasn’t sure what to say to that, wasn’t sure if it was more about a sense of self rather than what she looked like. She was just… She just… didn’t know what to feel right now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whoops, yes, that was what happened at in the previous chapter and what Solas was talking about when he looked for a head wound. My initial doodles of her were with the broken horns but then I drew her with them and liked that better... but that was a good place for it to happen because it was rather set that she would have broken horns. Oh well.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Qunari care about mastery more zealously than any other races and in speaking to Solas, the Inquisition may just have what they need in that field when it comes to the Breach and introductions are made to the War Council. The Inquisition's next step has been determined...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> At this rate, I might just get halfway by Christmas.

Leliana had suggested she maybe go and take a moment or rest after that. She’d apparently looked faint or ill. She didn’t argue it, just went back to the same house she’d woken up in and sat on the bed for a good long while, staring at the wall. In the end, she’d braved the horror and tentatively explored her scalp with her fingers but it took a while of doing simply that before she managed to make herself touch the horns. She didn’t let them linger there but she kept reaching back up and touching the ruined horns time and again over the next hour. She didn’t know how much time had passed when Varric came by and inquired as to how she was holding up. He obviously meant in the broader sense of the words but it took her a few heartbeats of staring to realise that. Of all the things that had happened over the last few days, this was somehow the most shocking and mentally challenging. Maybe because a piece of her had been broken, removed. The mark on her hand, while a nuisance and a worry, had been added. It wasn’t like she’d lost her hand. This was… different. She guessed she’d get used to it in time but right at that moment… she felt naked, vulnerable. Talking to Varric helped a bit though. It took her mind of some things.

After a while, Varric had left and she was once again on her own with his words swirling in her mind. “Joining the armies of the faithful”, he’d said… She glanced down at her hand, lying motionless in her lap, legs crossed where she sat on the bed. She needed to know more about that mark, about the Breach in general, about… about a lot of things related to magic. She had been the only mage in her kith and it restricted her ability to ask another about anything magic related. Now, here she was with no one really knowing who she was or able to contradict anything she said on the matter. And there was someone who was apparently well-versed in the Fade and the magic of the Breach. Slowly she got up and left to try and find Solas.

He was sitting near the alchemist’s hut, silently studying the Breach in the distance. It didn’t hiss and spit anymore, but it still flashed gently every so often. He must have seen her draw near because he turned away from the sight shortly before she reached him.

“So… The Chosen of Andraste, a blessed hero sent to save us all.” There was no mockery and no taunt. If he believed in the Chant, she couldn’t tell. As far as she could tell, it was simply a statement of what was going around among the pilgrims, craftsmen, soldiers and priesthood in the village. Asala finally allowed herself to heave a sigh at it.

“I wouldn’t be, if I could choose,” she told him honestly as she drew up beside him and leaned on the low stone wall. It wasn’t comfortable. She ended up sitting on it, knees bent and feet braced against it for balance. It wasn’t perfect but better than before. “It’s not a role that suits me. I just want to find a way to seal the Breach.”

The elf nodded. “Pragmatic, but irrelevant in the end.”

“How so?”

“Every great war has its heroes. They always will do for they are always needed, whether they are there to take the blame or praise in the end,” he made a gesture in the air that he reinforced with words a moment later. “That doesn't really matter.” She supposed that was true. She could certainly recognise her own tentative position in those words. “For that reason I inquire about your thoughts on the matter. I am curious what kind you hero you will be.”

“If I must, the kind that comes and goes just as quickly. I’d prefer a swift solution which, hopefully, would preserve the most amount of lives.”

Solas nodded. “A sound choice and good goal to strive for, although most would aim to get something for their efforts.” Asala shook her head. She’d be lucky to survive and get out of this without anyone getting to know the truth about her. The more fame, or even infamy, she garnered, the less that was likely to happen. She told him as much, minus the part regarding her secrets, of course. Solas gave a soft chuckle as he cast a lingering glance at the Breach. She wondered if he was of a mind since he didn’t add or attempt to convince her of otherwise. To be honest, she would’ve been surprise if he had. “Just be aware, the path we find ourselves on is, sadly, rarely that straight,” he added in the end before a thoughtful silence descended upon them. “…I’ll stay then.” His words were sudden when they were delivered a few moments later and unexpected enough to cause both Asala’s brows to climb.

“Was that ever in doubt?” she asked carefully. Solas turned to her once more, his eyes indulgent.

“I am an apostate mage, surrounded by Chantry forces and unlike you, I do not have a divine mark protecting me,” he expounded. Once he put it into words, she could see what he meant. It was rather obvious actually. “Cassandra has been accommodating, but you understand my caution.”

She let out a short laugh under her breath, followed by a sigh. “All too well…” she said with a smile at the ground before her gaze returned to his. “Cassandra trusts you. She won’t let anyone put you in a circle against your will.” He had helped her with the mark and keeping her safe when he had no reason to stay before. He also did appear to be the most well versed mage, as far as the Fade was concerned, in Haven. With the Breach still active, they could benefit from his expertise, especially since they didn’t know where to look for anyone of equal calibre since the Circles all across Thedas were shattered and its mages spread for the four winds, not to talk about their libraries and resources. “Besides, if they start rattling with chains and manacles, I believe there are those here that would pick me before you to cart off. If they could choose, that is,” she added with a crooked smile. She didn’t find it very funny though as the possibility of it happening still felt far too real. “If they start to complain, however, I would remind them of the aid you rendered without question and how your expertise helped. You deserve that.”

The man inclined his head after a short moment of silence. She wasn’t sure if he was surprised at her words or not. He was a very calm and mature person, obviously having seen a lot and it had shaped him into a person that, sometimes, was very hard to read. “Thank you. I appreciate the thought.”

Silence descended once again and she let it take them. She wasn’t sure how to phrase her request or even how to bring it up. She needed to ask though, needed to know exactly how much he could be of aid to her, personally, to the whole matter at hand and… to her critically small knowledge about the Fade and magic. “Solas… would you mind telling me about yourself? And your knowledge regarding… all of this.” She waved her marked hand at the surroundings, taking in the sky and most of the upper half of the village. What she truly meant was the Breach and her hand. She hoped he understood despite her fumbling with words.

Solas regarded her silently, a wary silence surrounding him. “…Why?”

“I… Well, from what I have seen so far, you seem to know a great deal about the Fade and magic and I…” She fell flat, verbally speaking, “am not too well-versed in it,” she finished with a heavy sigh. “Also, you’re an apostate mage, yet you risked everything to aid the Inquisition.”

He gave a light snort of amusement. “Not the wisest cause of action when framed that way, I have to agree, but thank you.” It was a rather backhanded compliment, wasn’t it?

Asala rubbed at her forehead. Start again? “The main point is, I respect your action, whether it be bravery or foolhardiness, and I would truly like to know more about what I’m stuck with. Or what I’m holding in the palm of my hand, really. I _must_ know more about it. I—” Her words ended abruptly and she didn’t know how to continue, how to voice that which she usually didn’t.

“You fear it.” She didn’t look up at him for his correct guess, just frowned anxiously at her hand. “Yet there is no need to fear it. You are a mage after all, are you not?” Solas continued and she had to look up, to meet his eyes, because there was a question and she needed to see, not just hear, what he thought on the matter.

“Yes, but… my tutoring in regards to my powers have been… less than adequate.” Now wasn’t that the biggest exaggeration she’d ever told? “If you would tell me more about it, at least so that I can manoeuvre what I have in my hand, then I’d greatly appreciate it.”

“I see.” Solas nodded but his gaze was still somewhat guarded. “…Well, if you wish it, I shall try my best to share with you what my wanderings have taught me,” he finally conceded and it felt like a weight had lifted from her shoulders. She may not like many aspects of her powers and feared others but they had availed her, and others in her care, in the past. She had to confess; this was long overdue.

She gave the elf a small but very warm smile, relieved. “Thank you.”

They moved into the nearby house after that, speaking at length. Or, to be more correct, he spoke and she listened. He told her about past experiences both within and out of the Fade and with its denizens. If the stories had any relevancy to their subject, he would mention them and why they were relevant. He was a good teacher, she concluded. Well versed in his subject, willing to listen to any question she had and answered them with careful consideration and a fair amount of neutrality.

“How do I do that?” she asked when he’d just finished a short note about controlling his dreams with full consciousness and little fear of drawing the wrong sort of attention. At his raised brows, she expanded upon her question. “Grow comfortable that is. I never tried to linger overlong in the Fade. I always shielded myself while dreaming, worried any emotion would bring something I couldn’t control or protect against.”

“Ah,” he said with a nod before moving slightly in his seat to find a better spot or make sure his limbs didn’t fall asleep. “Perceptions, Adaar. Most of the time, the Fade and its denizens will adjust to suit your perception and assumptions. If you assume all is there to do you harm, it very likely will. Some are, of course, regardless of your thoughts and will try to tempt or invite you to do their will. You can tell the difference, I assume?”

She rolled her shoulders uncomfortably. She was talking to him to learn but at the same time she felt like it was far too long overdue, as though she shouldn’t have drawn attention to her lacking mastery. It was much akin to how she’d felt regarding her skill with the Trade, or common, tongue that most in Thedas spoke. She had persevered then because she couldn’t go on without it. Now, her lacking knowledge of magic could prove dangerous and as the opportunity existed to improve… she couldn’t back down from it. “I… never really ventured to experiment too much, always afraid my dreams or power would leak out into the living world and alert someone who shouldn’t know about my magic. That, or that it would leak out and harm others.”

“If you are overly afraid of the fire, you will shun it for fear of being burnt and instead freeze to death.” His words drew her gaze back to him from where it’d wandered off. That was true and sound wisdom. “Watch it, learn what feeds the flames and then control it and exercise moderation. Those are the key points.” She stared. At times his words were so… familiar, as though she could just change a few words in the relevant subject and she would have something akin to what was written in the Qun. Or maybe she was just looking for similarities and grabbing at anything that held a grain of likeness, superimposing her wish to make it be alike to that which she had known to be true and right all her life? “Did no one ever tell you all of this when you first came into your gift?” Solas’s words and small frown brought her back to the here and now and she averted her gaze to the floor.

“…No. I was… There wasn’t really that many around and those who were…” She shrugged and raised her gaze again. “They wouldn’t have understood, put it that way.” It was truer than she would ever be able to tell without revealing the truth.

“Ah.” Solas didn’t pry or argue. “Well, I shall endeavour to help you.”

“Thank you, master Solas. That means more than you may think.” She remembered he preferred her to not use a title for him but for this once, she would. He didn’t argue it. They spent the rest of the day discussing magic, the Fade and spirits. He had a view of spirits and demons that she had a hard time wrapping her head around, much less agreeing to outright. It was a lot about perceptions though, as he’d mentioned before, and what did define a person? She wasn’t really sure. She couldn’t just nod and say “of course” but she would consider his words. He accepted her view on the matter even if it wasn’t entirely what he’d hoped for. She doubted she’d ever see demons and spirits like he did, it sounded like an easy way to slipping up and ending up with something far too difficult to get rid of out in the real world, much like the huge demon that had come through the large rift when she'd opened it.

****************

It was by mid-morning the next day that Cassandra called for her to go to the chantry with her. Solas had offered a lot of insight into magic, the Fade and more but the mark upon her hand still remained a mystery. As did the solution to the Breach. She was hoping they had some good news for her, _any_ news really, but somehow doubted that was the case.

“Does it trouble you?” Cassandra’s words brought her attention to the other woman. She hadn’t thought the Seeker spotted her glance at the afflicted appendage.

“No, I just…” What could she say? It was a difficult thing to explain. Maybe she would’ve been able to do it in Qunlat, but… “I’m not in pain anymore and it isn’t spreading but I still don’t know where it came from. Solas mentioned the high probability of an artefact but unless we find one, or traces of it, that doesn’t help much. To top it off, it didn’t do what we needed it to.” She was a bit bitter about that, yes. Bitter and worried. “It didn’t close the Breach. If it can’t do what we need it to, I’d rather not have it. It creeps me out, if I’m honest.”

“What’s important is that it’s stable, that’s a first,” Cassandra replied with a reassuring smile. Asala appreciated the attempt at alleviating the situation, but it wasn’t what she was looking for. “As the Breach has stopped spreading, we have more time on our side and with that we can find a way around the problem. Solas believes that with additional power, the same level used to open the Breach in the first place, we can make it work. That kind of power, however, isn’t easy to come by.”

Asala stared at the other woman. “You wish to pour _more_ power into an unknown, magical… object, for the lack of a better word?” She wasn’t sure whether to disbelieve what she’d just heard or be horrified. If that was Cassandra’s best solution to their problem, she feared her opinion of the Seeker would start to change. Maybe acting as an additional safety mechanism for her powers wasn’t something Cassandra could do after all. Magic could be used for good, could be helpful, _could_ be protective, she knew that more than anyone, but to go and tamper with it and in such a way? To pour even _more_ power into it? It sounded too Tevinter, too much Seheron at its worst, slaves and blood magic. You didn’t waste resources on such a short term goal. You found better ways to go around it. “Couldn’t that kind of power just make it worse?” She needed to be explicitly sure of the other’s position.

Cassandra let out a chuckle. “And people call me a pessimist. You are, of course, correct in the sense that we know little about it but we are short on aid from all directions, short on allies and short on knowledge.”

 _The most dangerous resource of them all to lack,_ Asala agreed, aloud she gave a restrained concurrence. “I see your reasoning but I still worry.”

“As do I. However, that’s what we are going to discuss now.” Cassandra motioned towards the room where they’d met when she first woke up after the failed attempt to seal the Breach. “You have seen the templars around Haven though, have you not?” the human continued as they moved closer to the door. Asala nodded. She had but there were also mages here and they just seemed so few in numbers if the Breach did something that endangered _everyone_ in the vicinity with magic… “While I am not a templar nor have their abilities, I can do something similar,” Cassandra continued, making Asala’s brows climb in surprise. She wondered if the human had read her anxiety on her body somehow and sought confirmation to as much. Cassandra gave her a crooked smile that she couldn’t quite explain. It was almost… bittersweet? “You need not worry for anyone’s safety on that matter, nor your own.” They’d halted and the woman now looked away, gaze passing over the little details in the chantry that identified the building as one of faith so much more than a name ever could.

“You said… you don’t believe you are chosen. Does that also mean you don’t believe in the Maker?” This seemed to be an important question for the woman. Asala gave her a smile.

“Your Maker has never featured in my life before and I cannot say He features in it now. This… thing on my hand; it is magic. Magic is the domain of the Land of the Dead and we have seen it in abundance here due to the breach in the Dam.”

“Land of the Dead?” At Cassandra’s question, Asala blinked and then couldn’t stop the embarrassed flush from taking over her cheeks.

“I… forgive me, that is… the incorrect terminology in the Common Tongue. It’s the name of the Beyond, the Fade, and the Veil in Qunlat. My parents kept the language alive and it _is_ my first language for that reason,” she threw out the lie that had so often been thrown out before. The only one who had ever been told the truth was the mother in the chantry she had first arrive at after alighting on the mainland. She had left that place far, far behind and wondered if the woman remembered her still. Probably not. “I sometimes forget myself and just translate the terms and names I’m used to hearing, which come out wrong as you just experienced.”

Cassandra nodded. “Do not worry on my behalf. I understand the difficulty of having several languages at your disposal. I’m Nevarran by birth myself.”

She wouldn’t have pinned the Seeker for a foreigner unless told. True, her accent was less flowing, unlike Leliana’s, but that could easily have been a matter of locations and dialects. She nodded nonetheless. “As I was saying,” she had to gather herself to return to the previous subject, “despite all that has happened; no, personally I don’t believe in your Chant of Light. I didn’t grow up with it so it holds little meaning to me. You, however, believe and that gives you strength but your true strength comes from yourself; your convictions, determination and views of what is right.” Asala assumed she understood what had brought this all up when she first asked about preventive measures for magic. “You worry about how right it would be to strike at me or my power as you believe I am chosen.” It was a guess but she didn’t phrase it as a question on purpose. Cassandra didn’t seem to need more questions but a clear cut path. Asala would give it to her if she could, even if she wasn’t sure of it herself.

The human looked slightly uncomfortable but nodded. “That is… correct.”

“Know that it is I who ask for these measures, most importantly for my own power’s sake, for I better than anyone know of its danger. I experience it after all. Now, I don’t know the exact danger that the mark on my hand poses and as such I ask for preventive measures to ensure others aren’t hurt.”

Cassandra didn’t have to say anything it was visible in her gaze that she understood the reason why. It was about responsibility, about what was right and logical to do. “I will do what I can for you, should the need ever arise,” she promised.

“What can you do as a Seeker?”

“I can set the lyrium within a person blood aflame. It can be used for interrogation as well as simply to paralyse.” That would be adequate as far as preventive measures went, even momentary ones. Asala nodded. “I am also immune to possession and mind control due to the training seekers undergo.”

“Your presence is a comfort,” Asala told her with a genuinely grateful smile. Cassandra snorted, amused.

“You are one of the few mages I have heard say that.”

“I do not cling to illusions of power and rights simply for being alive.” Everything had its place and usefulness, but you should always know your boundaries. No one could do everything in this world, even though she feared that the title the humans here were applying to her would imply that they expected as much of her. She refrained from sighing and indicated the door at the end of the hall instead. “Shall we?”

When Cassandra led them into the room, Asala noticed that there were two new faces there. Well, one was relatively new. She’d met the commander once before. Once proper introductions had been made, the discussion went straight to the most pressing matter, much to Asala’s relief. The mages were brought up again but the commander, Cullen Rutherford, had a suggestion that appealed for more to her; the Templar Order. Leliana didn’t seem to have much faith in his choice, or their abilities and while Asala disagreed with the spymaster’s disregard for the experience on the matter that the commander had, she chose to let them speak alone on the subject… for now. If it came down to her choice or suggestion, she would side with the commander. It was the most sound suggestion to date and also appealed to her personally.

Annoyingly, the chancellor and human politics once again reared their ugly heads, blocking the way. How they ever got anything done down in the south was beginning to amaze her. She didn’t envy Taarlok or Shokrakar their duty where they constantly had to interact with the humans and, more rarely, elves and dwarves. That bothersome title, the Herald, was apparently also spreading and causing its excepted share of problems. She’d hoped that Haven’s remote location would slow the particular set of news that fed into the title’s usage. No such luck.

“It is quite the title, isn’t it?” Cullen said and Asala wasn’t sure if it was ironic amusement pulling at his mouth or not. “How do you feel about that?”

Asala heaved a sigh. “It’s… a little unsettling.”

The commander laughed. “I’m sure the Chantry would agree.”

“It is also annoying as it appears to cause us trouble,” she frowned.

“It may,” Leliana agreed, “but it may also play in our favour.” Asala could see how if she cared to look deeper and try to analyse human politics and psyche, but she truly didn’t. Not for this reason anyway. “People are desperate for a sign of hope. To some, you’re that sign,” the woman continued.

“And to others, a symbol of everything that has gone wrong,” the ambassador, Josephine Montilyet, added. Asala would have to agree with the tanned woman there. If her people had ever gotten to know about her powers before she left, they would most certainly also agree. They still could. Wouldn’t that be a rare event, the Qunari and Southerners agreeing? There was still one other thing this title and its attention did though…

“Are they not worried about the Breach?” Did they hope it would just go away if they focused hard enough on any or everything else? Or if they just closed their eyes and ears and sang, like children? They needed to focus, to do the right thing. If templars now saw to magic, both the improper use of it and when it went haywire and there was no one to blame immediately, and they had abandoned their post, this was a matter for the Chantry who oversaw them. However, if the Chantry couldn’t control the templars or make them listen, then that faction was failing, too. Wherever she looked, it seemed like all the important factions within the human nations were failing. But that was the reason for the Inquisition’s conception, was it not? It shouldn’t have been necessary though. The original factions shouldn’t have failed to begin with. If an organ in the body failed, you couldn’t just exchange it for another, or make another organ take up its task. The heart could not do what the liver or brain did. Foolish children, that’s what they were it would appear. Despite the factions’ age and experience, they acted like children. Venak hol.

“They do know it’s a threat,” Cullen confirmed but Asala wasn’t so sure they understood just _how_ bad a threat it was, seeing the way they were acting. “They just don’t think _we_ can stop it.” She made a noise at that, frowning. If they had any pertinent information or aid, she would love to hear it or hand over the problem.

“The Chantry is telling everyone you’ll make it worse.”

She stared at the ambassador. “They would truly go so far as to, for the lack of a better way to put it, make the whole situation _worse_?” They would condemn the only thing that had any leeway or influence over their problem just because… what? Why? Was there even a reason? Because they feared their faith was in jeopardy? Because she was a Qunari? If a viddathari was more suited for a role that had always been filled by a Qunari, it was given to the convert, no questions asked. That was just the proper thing to do. You didn’t stop using your left leg because you disliked the look of it and instead jumped around on one leg or with a crutch, wasting an arm to hold it up! Asala couldn’t hold back the heavy sigh, nor keep her hands from rubbing at her face and pushing up through her hair. This was… It was just…

“There is something you can do.” Leliana’s words put a tiny light at the end of the very dark tunnel she felt herself staring down. “A Chantry cleric by the name of Mother Giselle has asked to speak to you,” Leliana told her with a sympathetic smile when she looked up. She must have looked more tired than she should allow to show to gain such a reaction. Asala straightened her back and reined in her emotions.

 _Asit kost say sataa._ She _had_ to keep her calm. Everyone else, outside this Inquisition at least, seemed to be losing theirs after all. Where was a tamassran or an ashkaari when you needed one? Oh yeah, she almost forgot, she was one, or had been at least. Albeit not one who dealt solely with adults, but she’d learnt very similar techniques and ways to explain things. Sometimes, children could say the exact same things as adults did. They just didn’t understand the words, or the reasons, as well. She would use her abilities as best she could to aid the Inquisition. It was what she always had done.

“Where is she?” she asked Leliana tiredly. Just one moment of feeling exhausted and then she would put it all behind her and push on. She could do it. She had always been able to do it. She took a slow, steadying breath and forced the tension in her shoulders to give way. There. Better.

“At a small village called the Crossroads in the Hinterlands not far from Redcliffe, tending to the wounded there. Redcliffe is the seat of the local arl, lord of the surrounding lands.”

Asala nodded. The Mother was someone who knew her duty then. That was a relief. “Do you have any information on what she would have to say?” She had to, considering she wished to send Asala down the mountain and beyond. That path wasn’t traversed in a day or two.

Leliana smiled, something in her face telling Asala she was pleased the other had caught onto her words. “She knows the ones involved in this matter far better than I. As you can imagine, it could make her assistance invaluable when dealing with the Chantry or predicting their movement.” Asala assumed Leliana, as spymaster, must consider the trip and subsequent meeting safe enough and so nodded.

“I’ll go to meet her then.”

“Look for other opportunities to expand the Inquisition’s influence while there.” Asala looked over at the commander with a question in her eyes. It was the ambassador who filled her in.

“We need agents to extend our reach beyond this valley, and you’re better suited than anyone to recruit them.” Ah, they meant because of her hand and the title applied to her. She would like to know who had come up with it and how she’d acquired the mark. Especially the latter as it would, in a sense, tell her who had re-set her purpose in life without telling her. Or at least attempted to re-set it. Josephine’s words about thinking of other ways, beyond Asala herself, to expand the Inquisition were welcome but her easy use of the Herald title still wasn’t comfortable.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Venak hol – Wearying one, possibly also interpreted as “tiresome being(s)” (A mild insult)  
> Asit kost say sataa. – Be at peace with the world.
> 
> A look at Asala's relationship with Solas and Cassandra, but also at a very qunari trait; mastery or the lack thereof. As we know, if qunari haven't mastered something, they'd rather pretend like they don't know it at all. Asala can no longer ignore her magic to the same extent and as such looks for a tutor.  
> Also, as some of you may know, a shrink usually has a shrink of their own because the shit they get to hear can be rather demoralising. As such, Asala wishes she had one, too.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Josephine asks about the Qun and the Inquisition arrives in the Hinterlands for their first, true challenge.

Before they could leave, however, some preparations had to be made. As the next day flowed into noon, they were ready to leave. However, before they ran off to anywhere, Cassandra told her, Josephine had asked to speak with the Herald when time permitted it. As they didn’t know how long they’d be gone, Asala agreed that it would be prudent to check with the ambassador what she wished to speak about before going. She had a second to wonder about her timing though, as voices filtered out through the door as soon as she cracked it open. It’d swung inwards too far by the time she thought to catch it due to well-oiled hinges. Presence announced, she saw Josephine’s eyes flash her way for a second while the masked man continued to argue in front of the Antivan.

“The Inquisition _cannot_ remain, Ambassador, if you can’t prove it was founded on Justinia’s orders.”

“This is an inopportune time, Marquis,” she told him apologetically but with that tiny bit of stress to her voice that would subconsciously inform others that she wasn’t about the budge on the matter. “More of the faithful flock here each day,” she finished before turning so that she was facing both the noble and Asala before making the introduction. “Mistress Adaar, may I present the Marquis DuRellion, one of Divine Justinia’s greatest supporters.”

“And the rightful owner of Haven.” Josephine had barely had time to finish talking before the man stepped in, both physically and verbally. Asala was almost relieved that he wasn’t being intimidated by her height or race, not as far as she could tell anyway. People acted stupidly, and rashly, when anxious or frightened. His aggression was unlikely to aid them much however. “House DuRellion lent Justinia these lands for pilgrimage. This ’Inquisition’ is not a beneficiary of this arrangement,” he complained, unable to stand still and converse with her. It was a trait she’d often seen in Orlesians during her two years with the Valo-Kas kith. She would try to reason with him and if he continued to act the same way… She’d see what words he chose first.

“People have been injured, they’re in shock,” she told him with a hint of distress. Too much and she risked coming off as begging. “The ones they looked to for guidance have been taken from them and you wish to turn them out into the cold? Because of the land they stand on while mourning, just like you do, and tending to their wounds?” she challenged as she allowed a hardness to enter her words and face. “They need guidance from their leaders, from people like you, now more than ever, not to be pushed aside. The Inquisition is here because no one is stepping forward and aiding them.”

The noble blinked at her, as though he hadn’t expected her to say quite that, then frowned. She wondered if she’d hit a nerve. He seemed hit by her last words. “Why isn’t the Chantry taking care of them?” He had raised an excellent question. Maybe there was something useful to him after all, more than boasts and words.

“Because they are in shock, your grace!” Josephine stepped in, speaking with earnest as her face scrunched up. The ambassador was so good with words that Asala hadn’t thought to wonder if or how hard all of this had hit the woman. Leliana and Cassandra had a more personal past with the Divine, she knew that from their positions, but she had no idea about Josephine’s feelings. She continued to speak with the marquis as Asala watched and, in the end, they got a maybe that Asala thought sounded more like a concession that left his dignity intact and words not literally binding him to their meaning. She shook her head as the door closed behind him.

“If all nobles that come here are as stubborn as the marquis, what good is talking to them?” she honestly asked the woman who gave her a sympathetic look.

“Every nation is subject to its lords,” the ambassador said as he walked over to her desk. If it was that simple, Asala could understand and agree, but at the same time, it was more to it than that. So much more.

“If the lords cannot do their duty,” she shook her head as she spoke, “then maybe they should reconsider their suitability for the position and cede it to someone else. We can’t have them squabbling over principles, land claims, deeds and fees at times like these. We need those in power to see clearly and direct with a sure hand. How else are we to focus on what actually needs our attention?”

“Sadly, as has been noted before, we are on our own in matters we truly shouldn’t. We will all endeavour to do our best to smooth the path for the Inquisition’s work and yours, my lady.”

Asala shook her head again. “It isn’t about that. It’s about so much more.” They didn’t have time to argue principles any more than the other leaders. “The Seeker said you wished to speak to me?”

“Ah, yes.” Josephine twisted slightly in her seat, immediately looking somewhat uncomfortable. “I’ve been meaning to ask you, my lady… What are your thoughts on the Qun? People have… wondered.”

“And it’d be good if you had an answer for them, especially in these early days,” Asala filled her in when the other seemed to, for once, lose her words. Josephine nodded.

“Just so.”

Asala tilted her head and thought for a moment before, very carefully, choosing her words. “Have you studied the Qun or the Qunari?”

Josephine almost looked relieved at her reaction or at least lack of perceived slight. “It _is_ a decided gap in my education,” she confessed. “I know the Qun is a philosophy, a set of laws, a legislative guide, and a social architecture governing the Qunari.” She had the most basic overview of it, Asala agreed. Her teachers should be proud as most didn’t get the Qun explained well enough to sum it up at all. This was mostly because of the Qunari’s view on mastery over languages and foreigners’ ability to comprehend a system it took extreme dedication to learn when they had already been taught another and lived by it for so long. “Those who appeared at court, however, insisted the Qun is too complex for an outsider.” It almost sounded as though the ambassador felt a bit insulted at having been told as much. Asala smiled; most of the time that reasoning was true.

“Sataareth hass-toh issala ebasit.” She spoke the words with gentle ease and a familiarity one could only achieve when having lived with or around something for half your life or more. Josephine stared at her and she smiled, forcing herself to keep back the soft laughter threatening to spill forth. Depending on the situation, and person, Qunlat could sound very harsh but she’d always practiced a softer tone. She’d raised her voice, made it rough, when she needed to but preferred not to. “’I do what I must’.”

“Is… is that what it means?”

“Summarised; yes, it is. The Qun, in practice, is very much that phrase…or so my parents told me.” As her tamassran had taught her, really. “Translated a bit more literally, which would be required for someone not under the Qun, it means ‘it is my purpose to do what I must for you all’. Everyone is a whole and if you stop, everyone stops. The Qun… works for some and doesn’t work for others, just like anything in this world. I cannot claim to be blind to it as those who raised me were raised inside it. No matter how far from an origin you go, you always carry a part with it for the longest time and you pass it down through your generations for the longest while, too. You will not even notice it, but it is true.” It was why it was sometimes so hard to re-educate some converts. Little traits or habits lingered even if they didn’t mean to hold onto them. For some, time was all it took to let these things go, but for others… they were such an integral part of their being that they could either use their determination, self-control and focus to suppress it for the rest of their life or risk snapping one day and ending up with the re-educators. She often thought of this. Had she taught her charges, in the subtlest way possible, that magic could be used for good, showed them when she healed them or eased their pain, would they not have been a generation with less fear of it? Probably. But it could likely also have done nothing.

“However, as you know, I am a mage,” she continued before any words damned her. “Had I been born there and my powers known… you would not be speaking to me today. For several reasons. The Qun views magic even less favourably than your Chantry. The Fade, a place we call the Land of the Dead, is forbidden to all.”

Josephine nodded, she understood and it wasn’t she who doubted and worried but she had to be thorough for when she spoke to others. Or, perhaps, she worried what Asala might say and wished to caution and suggest what words to not use if the question came up from an aggressive speaker. She needn’t have worried but Asala let her inquire. “People ask how a Qunari could be Andraste’s Herald. It worries them if they believe it, and angers them if they do not. Convincing them of your good intentions will be tasking.”

Asala gave her a reassuring smile. “Even as a Vashoth, when you look like I do, you go around declaring to people your intentions and explaining yourself. Rest assured, I’ve had a bit of training in the matter.” Not as much as her lies would imply she did but her training in how people’s minds worked and in directing children and youths carried her the rest of the way. Or so she felt anyway. She had yet to have someone contradict her or tell her something was off due to how she spoke. If the mainland Thedosians had ever chosen not to believe or trust her, it had been because they didn’t wish to think her harmless or friendly. At least so far. “And I have complete faith in your skill as well,” she concluded with a small bow. Josephine flushed prettily.

“I, too, shall endeavour to do my best. It will be interesting. Not that I ever assumed work for the Inquisition would be dull. You have just given me an extra challenge.” One she was going to conquer, if Asala could read her at all. “But you were on your way to the Hinterlands, were you not? I shouldn’t withhold you overlong when the others await you.”

Asala chuckled softly. “Take care while we’re gone, Ambassador,” she said and exited the office.

The journey to the Hinterlands had been fairly uneventful and the further from the mountains they got, the warmer the air became, too. It had also been nice to get out of Haven. All those eyes upon her… She was used to being stared at, it came with being a member of the least prolific people on the mainland. There were even more surface dwarves than there were Qunari, Tal-Vashoth or even Vashoth here. The difference with the people in Haven was the _reason_ for their stares, the looks of reverence and hope. She’d been honest with the commander when he asked; that title was disquieting. The few people they met on the road or while passing villages didn’t know of the title and so they didn’t stare… quite as much. They still stared because she was half a head taller than most of the tallest men present. Cassandra, with her strong soul and air of leadership did draw a lot of the initial glances, of course, but seeing how Asala walked beside her, the eyes quickly moved. She would’ve preferred it if Cassandra led but the woman wanted her, at least, by her side. Her beliefs, Asala guessed, would allow nothing short of it. That and the fact that many in the fledgling organisation looked to her as a spiritual leader due to the title as Herald of Andraste, something that would’ve made them question why she wasn’t leading with Cassandra at the very least. There was no arguing them and insisting on otherwise would cause confusion and disorder among the rank and file. It was not worth it, much to her chagrin.

She did wonder though, remorsefully, if she maybe had underestimated how far her new title had spread as even the forces at their forward camp in the Hinterlands knew of it. It _was_ the first thing out of the dwarven scout’s mouth after all… A stray thought also made her wonder if Leliana and Cassandra had made use of the spymaster’s crow network to spread the news faster than two feet could carry them. When it was revealed that what happened at the Breach had also gotten down here or even further, Asala just gave up. At this rate, it left little hope for anonymity.

After a light lunch and receiving directions for both the Crossroads and the horse master the Inquisition was seeking, they set off again. It had taken them a few days but they’d arrived well before midday, setting up camp the night before instead of pushing to arrive at the forward camp, so that they could continue on immediately after a briefing. To be able to secure the Crossroads and meet with the Mother in broad daylight was also preferential. They had only attained the outskirts of the tiny village when the sound of fighting reached their ears.

“Scout Harding warned us of how the fighting had spread,” Cassandra reminded them as they hurried towards the commotion. “Inquisition forces!” The Seeker exclaimed as the fighting parties came into view. Their actions were decided from that moment and reinforced as no words seemed to sway the bull-headed attackers. Asala thought it a pity that sense seemed to have left the mages as soon as they left their Circles and that the templars they encountered appeared to be likewise afflicted. Once she even spotted a face through a window before someone else dragged the spectator further back and out of view but most likely also harm’s way. How senseless did the combatants have to be to fight in a populated area?

The rebel mages proved less of a challenge than the rogue templars they faced but even then Asala guessed that they were not at their best. As she understood it, templars used lyrium to some degree for their abilities and this far away from their official source, the Chantry, cut off both politically and geographically due to the fighting blocking trade routes, they couldn’t have had enough to be the bulwark against magic they once had been.

The fighting took longer than she would’ve liked but once it was clear no one else was coming, and the Inquisition wasn’t about to go hurt anyone, pillage or burn down any buildings, the inhabitants of the place began to come creeping out of their hiding places. They were also able to locate corporal Vale and get a status report on the place and the different forces in the area. After all the injured had been moved to one place it was much easier to locate the woman they’d come to speak to.

Moving carefully as to not alarm anyone who hadn’t heard of or seen her yet, Asala walked up to the make-shift infirmary. They did not have much to make do with. It was sad to see such a poorly equipped place having to deal with this level of violence. “Mother Giselle?” she inquired gently after the woman in the Chantry robes. The human rose with nearly invisible difficulty that Asala assumed was her slowly but surely advancing age.

“I am. And you must be the one they are calling the Herald of Andraste,” she replied while making her way over to Asala. Her step was light enough for a woman of, Asala assumed, anything in the fifties and up. Elves had always been more difficult to tell the age of, she felt, while with humans, they were so numerous it was hard not to get practice.

“Unfortunately,” she replied, inclining her head to the priest who allowed a chuckle to slip past her lips. “That isn’t why you’ve asked to speak to me though, is it?” That’d be all she needed right now. A member of the priesthood wishing to confer with her to confirm her own beliefs. Seeing the luck they’d had with anyone in charge up until now, she felt justified for fearing that.

“No.” The mother shook her head and gestured to a clear spot, away from the healers at work. They were too few in Asala’s mind. Was there no one else? Even a place this small must have a local healer. She’d have to remember to inquire about it later. “I know of the Chantry’s denouncement,” the Mother spoke as they walked, “and I’m familiar with those behind it.” She explained the situation but Asala couldn’t say she was very forgiving. To be fair, the Breach would most likely have shaken quite a few souls if it’d happened in Par Vollen or any other place under the Qun. Fear didn’t help anyone though. What of the common people, those meant to mend a tear in a garment, bake the bread and take care of the animals? If their leaders gave in to fear, exhibited only that and acted accordingly, how could anything else be expected from those layers of society? And if all fell to fear, despair and irrational behaviour and violence? Then the whole thing crumbled. Leading meant you had to try and stay aloof, show a strong front, even when you were feeling weak, were doubtful or frightened. They may not like to hear it but that was their duty. It was their ability to lead, guide and console others that had put them in the positions they inhabited, wasn’t it? Then again… if, as Mother Giselle said, some were just hoping to increase their chances of becoming the next Ariqun, they weren’t fit for their position. Although it was more likely that all those fit for the role, as Cassandra had said and Mother Giselle now mentioned, too, had been at the Conclave. Bones and ashes all of them now.

“Go to them.” Asala met Mother Giselle’s eyes warily. The older woman smiled, gently but encouraging. “Convince the remaining clerics that you are no demon to be feared.” She was an unleashed saarebas in the eyes of the Qun. By simply meeting with the Mother she was endangering people. But then, she’d lived for years with her fault, the rare times she’d used it, it’d aided only. She was unsure how to see it, had been for the longest time. After speaking with Solas, she couldn’t say what the thing on her hand was. It was stable now and simply by existing there, it didn’t harm anyone. Then again, she’d always held a very tight personal leash on her powers and temper, and now also this mark, so maybe she didn’t truly know the extent of what it could do. After her powers had finally manifested, she’d never truly relaxed, let go of her control. She imagined she never fully would either.

“They have heard only frightful tales of you.” The Mother’s words confirmed how far tales of the Breach had spread and over such a short space of time. That was the most frightening thing in Asala’s mind. They seemed to move faster than magic. “Give them something else to believe,” Mother Giselle encouraged.

Asala sighed. She felt like she was doing that far too often lately. “I’m sure it has not escaped your notice but I am… a Qunari,” she finished with a small, helpless flourish of her hands. She would always see herself as such, no matter what. “You believe they will give me the chance to speak, much less get near?”

Mother Giselle gave her an apologetic smile. “If we do not take the first step, show patience, that there is naught to fear, how will they know?”

“And they would not just execute me on the spot?”

The cleric shook her head. “You are no longer alone. They cannot imprison or attack you.”

Asala thought to contradict the Mother’s words. It wasn’t like she could take the full Inquisition force with her up to Val Royeaux, which was honestly the only way to guarantee what the Mother said. The woman smiled kindly at her, making Asala wonder how well she could reads others. She would have enough experience to be very good at it at the very least. She couldn’t help but return the smile, at least a little. The situation still worried her.

“Let me put it this way,” Mother Giselle spoke up after a short moment of peace. “You needn’t convince all of them. You just need some of them to… doubt. Their power is their unified voice. Take that from them, and you receive the time you need.”

She wasn’t sure but she would give it a try. She had to, didn’t she? It was annoying that she not only had to control the powers she suddenly found in the palm of her hand but also use them, survive their use, somehow either _empower_ them further, like a maniac, or lessen the Breach’s power and now also keep the priesthood from trying to stop her fixing the sky. Any more and she was going to fear a nervous breaking wasn’t far behind. She’d never had one of those before, not one she hadn’t bit _hard_ into until it bled and then swallowed back down, and she certainly didn’t need one now.

“Thank you. Your aid is much appreciated and more welcome than you may realise,” she said at length, deciding on just letting her guard down an infinitesimal bit, to take in that peace she found in known _someone_ else had their senses around them. Someone who was of the very people they needed to convince.

Mother Giselle gave her a sympathetic smile. “I honestly don’t know if you’ve been touched by fate or sent to help us but… I hope. And hope is what we need now, young one.” Asala doubted she fully grasped just how comforting that was. The Mother wasn’t someone who looked to her with blind faith or hope but held a good degree of calm and peace about her, never letting her convictions take over her completely. Cassandra was strong but she also believed strongly, making her presence both a boon and bane. “The people will listen to your rallying call as they will listen to no other,” the human continued carefully. “You could build the Inquisition into a force that will deliver us… or destroy us.” Asala blinked at her, eyes widening faintly. To have even this woman state it… The rest of the Chantry must be worried indeed. It didn’t make the need to go to Val Royeaux any easier.

They parted with Mother Giselle promising to travel to Haven now that the Crossroads had been secured, reminding Asala of the list of things the corporal had quoted her that still threatened the people here. She sighed and went in search of Cassandra who’d said she would make a start on the things that could be done immediately and simply needed approval from those in charge.

“Did you hear about that cult up in them hills?” Asala cast a sidelong glance at the trio of refugees as she passed them.

“The one saying they’re waitin’ for the Maker to come down through that hole in the sky?”

“Aye. Eldyn’s boy ran off to join them and now his wife’s having trouble with her lungs again. Boy’s the only one who can make the potion that clears ‘em. Hyndel I think his name was,” the man said as he scratched his bearded chin. “Eldyn’s afraid the missus will die and from what I’ve heard of her breathing, I fear he’s right.”

“Well, I don’t think the Maker’s going to come through that burning shitehole anytime soon.”

Asala frowned. Surely the boy couldn’t have known about his mother taking ill. He wouldn’t have gone otherwise, right? Maybe she could try and heal—

“Herald!” Asala whipped around at Cassandra’s sudden voice. Hers wasn’t the only head that turned though, much to her discomfort. She was the only Qunari around but… still. She hadn’t been stared at quite as much as she felt herself being ogled now. “I have managed to speak to a few scouts and they’ve confirmed a location for the templars in the area and a highly probable location for the apostates that keep fighting them.” That was something, wasn’t it? They didn’t have time to waste on running around _looking_ for the idiots they needed to convince to stand down or force to heel.

“Do we have enough men here now to send some out to at least take on one of the two?” Asala asked as she met Cassandra halfway. The woman nodded. “There have also been sightings of rifts and demons roaming the countryside.” She hadn’t really thought of that, not this far from the Breach and told Cassandra as much. The warrior shook her head. “The way they were described there can be no mistake; there are rifts about.”

Asala grimaced and closed her eyes, searching for the power in her hand with her magical eye. She’d assiduously ignored and muted the mark the whole way here. Now she stopped and a faint hum began buzzing in her head. Behind her closed eyes, she could see dots of green light, some brighter than others when she twisted her head around searchingly. The only reason she knew how to do it was because she’d been unable to sleep, even inside a windowless room in the chantry, without muting the mark. The Breach had glared at her every time she closed her eyes. Even when she turned her back on it, she could see its radiance at the corner of her eye. She could also sense the fluxing powers in it, the ones that kept huge chunks of rock floating near its epicentre, of all unnerving things. Rocks were meant to lie still on the _ground_.

“Yes…” she mumbled before opening her eyes to find Cassandra watching her questioningly. “Yes, I can sense them.”

“You can?” She sounded surprised. “Could you direct us to them as well?”

Asala nodded. “The Breach was causing me trouble while attempting to rest so I’ve been doing my best to tune it out. I’ll… try to refrain from doing it all the time.” They needed the rifts closed after all and since they were in the area…

Cassandra nodded. “We’ll see to them while we’re here, but we also need to focus on restoring peace.” That was true. They couldn’t request even more troops and then just leave. The combatants would be all over the place in a second. And there was still the matter of finding the horse master and getting the Inquisition its cavalry. If they were all still alive, that is. Dennet could be dead for all they knew and the horses long gone.

“There is one thing I wish to see to before we leave, though,” she said carefully and watched Cassandra frown. She realised the tone may be what caused the unsure reaction from the Seeker. “It won’t take long,” she assured the other woman as they were joined by Solas and Varric while she led the way. It didn’t take too long to find the refugee she’d heard about, but sadly the wife’s condition wasn’t something healing could fix. Some diseases ate into the very core of the body and anchored themselves. A healer could chase it throughout the body but they usually never succeeded in routing it entirely. The disease always came back. It was like the Blight taint; incurable. The man was grateful for the attempt nonetheless.

“The cult?” Corporal Vale raised a brow at Asala’s query as she returned to him. He shook his head, face lit by a grimace, and scratched his neck. “The fools have dug themselves into that old fort down in the south-eastern hills. Some refugees have joined them, or so I’ve understood, because there’s barely any hostile mages and templars down there. Unless they’re routed here though, I say it’s just a matter of time,” he told them with an annoyed shrug. The situation was obviously a troublesome matter for him, which was more than understandable, seeing it was his charge. Of course, with them there, the responsibility was shared. It made his life a bit easier, Asala assumed.

“You don’t have to do this.” Asala turned her head to give Solas a glance as they left the corporal. He was correct, of course.

“I know that,” she replied without fanfare as Cassandra frowned beside her. “But most of the rifts are in the south and, well…” Honestly? Maybe honesty was the best. “I’d like to speak to the boy, and that illness, while not contagious, isn’t something an ordinary healer with herbs or basics spells can fix. If he is the only one who can make the potion necessary, I don’t see why he’s up in the hills. He could surely help more than just his parents if he’s got a talent for alchemy.” She didn’t say but the look in the man’s eye when she failed to heal the injury was something she could’ve done without. Of course, if she hadn’t tried at all, she wouldn’t have seen it but that would’ve been like ignoring one of her charges. Just because she didn’t have to do it didn’t mean she should. She wasn’t a healer and by no means the best with healing spells but she _could_ cast them and she’d had more than a fair bit of practice at it. She was here to help them as part of the Inquisition. There was little reason not to when they needed to go in that direction anyway. True, they could’ve gone elsewhere first but… Solas didn’t reply for a long while and when she turned her head to see if they’d lost him, he looked thoughtful. He must have felt her eyes on him because a moment later, he met her gaze and gave a quick nod. She accepted it and turned back to the road ahead.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sataareth hass-toh issala ebasit. – It is my purpose to do what I must for you all. (altered from original “Sataareth kadan hass-toh issala ebasit.” – It is my purpose to do what I must for those I consider important. As she considers none of them a "kadan", she cuts that part out. I still think it explains things fairly well. I also spent far too long slavishly trying to figure out what word was what and how the grammar of that sentence worked. Haha.)
> 
> It may very well be Asala has spoken too freely about her knowledge of the Qun with Josephine, giving her a few key pieces to the puzzle. Time will tell if the ambassador puts them together or if the speeding-slalom combo contest the Inquisition is partaking in will take up all her attention. The whole DA:I is just a game of dodge ball with every other shit who has an opinion and Corypheus, isn't it?


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The cult in the hills gets a new purpose and the elusive horsemaster of Redcliffe is confronted.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As edited in earlier, chapter summaries have been added for easier navigation if you're looking for a specific point in the story.  
> Also, sorry for the delay after so many updates in nearly one go.

It took the better part of the day but they got to close two rifts before setting up camp by a ruined, old tower. Solas seemed fairly interested in their location and Asala assumed it was for any possible history he’d be able to glean from it while dreaming while Cassandra felt it was good for additional protection. The next morning they set out again, climbing hills until, at last, they reached the structure. Its walls were crumbling in places and had holes in the towers facing the road leading up to it but that didn’t seem to have deterred the current occupants. The portcullis was even down, meaning the place was either in a better condition than the outside let on or the cult had simply repaired it for their own safety. A woman was standing outside though, her posture defiant and strong in the way only someone who knew themselves and was assured of their convictions could be. As long as she didn’t prove to be a bother, she could be as convinced about her beliefs as she wished, Asala thought.

As they came within a few metres of the gate, the woman’s scrutiny of them became evident. Once they were even closer, her stance changed, feet more firmly on the ground and arms now crossed over her chest. “I know you.”

 _Oh no,_ Asala thought before she could continue. She _was_ going to be trouble, wasn’t she?

“I am Speaker Anais and they call you the ‘Herald of Andraste’ for what you did at Haven. But are you? The Maker has not told me so,” she finished as she stared Asala down with the air of someone insulted. Asala guessed she could understand. If someone had proclaimed to know or do the will of the Prophet but done something completely different or even opposite of what all their texts on Koslun, not to speak of the Tome itself, said, then would she have believed them?

“Greetings, Speaker,” Asala said with a short bow. From the woman’s words, she assumed she didn’t need an introduction herself though. “No, I don’t claim to be the Herald of Andraste.” Maybe that would appease the woman and smooth the path? She _seemed_ happier. If in an almost vindicated way.

“I thought so. Stories about you mastering the rifts are just blind heresy.”

Asala thought about rubbing her forehead but refrained. “No, I _can_ seal rifts.” The two were entirely separate from each other but if this cult believed the Breach was tied to their Maker then… She could see the connection they felt she claimed by simply carrying the mark.

“Then prove it,” the woman challenged with a frown. “Show me that the rifts bend to your will, the will of the Maker. There’s a rift here, at the back of the fort. Show me the power you wield by sealing it.” Either someone was close enough to hear her and knew her well enough to not be told or there’d been a signal given. Either way, the portcullis began to rise, allowing them entrance. If the woman now was so insistent on seeing a rift closed then she assumed they could see to that first, especially if it was an active rift. But if it _was_ active, Asala couldn’t understand how any of them would stay that close to it. It was dangerous! The blind idiocy of the action was astounding. No one else, no matter what they thought of her or the Inquisition, didn’t stay right by a rift if it opened. Anything could come out of it at a moment’s notice.

The green glow shining from a chamber at the very back of the keep was hard to miss even from the entrance. As they drew closer, however, it became evident that it was one of the least active rifts they’d so far encountered but it wasn’t closed like the one in the ruined Temple of Sacred Ashes had been. “Utter foolishness,” Solas muttered behind her and she nodded. She could only agree. Her hand began crackling even before they reached the end of the corridor that led to the chamber with the rift. The tear itself remained calm until they were a few metres away, then it came alive. It spat out two of those monstrosities with spindly limbs she’d seen once before and as unfortunate as she felt it was, she was getting used to fighting demons by now. The rift proved an easy enough one to close. Lucky for the fools who’d lived next to it, she felt, because anything worse could’ve meant that anyone in the fort had been possessed. She hadn’t sensed any excess of raw Fade energy on them though, not the way she could almost smell it when demons were near. It was a rather disturbing sensation as it was so intricately tied to being asleep. It felt just wrong to smell it, sense it in anyway, while she was awake.

As the rift sputtered its last and closed with a flash and a crack, like lightning, Asala rolled her stiff shoulders. Her hand had had a lot of magical energy coursing through it over the last few days and while not painful, it left a buzzing, faintly itching feeling under the skin. It was similar to the feeling when your limbs wake up after having fallen sleep. She’d survive. Meraad had once woken up after sleeping in a right awkward position, something that had rendered his whole arm numb and dead. As the blood came rushing back however, he could start moving it again and he’d complained about the skittering sensation under the skin. She wondered now, not for the first time, if he’d survived. During their initial search of the ruins, Leliana’s people had only found one corpse with the telltale horns and bone structure that set her people apart. She’d asked the body be buried but the horns removed so she could send them back to her kith. The spymaster hadn’t asked any questions just said it would be done. Maybe she should’ve composed a letter to Shokrakar before she left but knowing only the fate of one of her kith made any attempt seem so… incomplete. If nothing more had been discovered by the time they returned from the Hinterlands, however, she’d see it done, no matter how she felt.

The woman, Speaker Anais, was waiting for them as they came up the steps from the chamber where the rift had been. She wore an expression that was shocked and awed in equal measures. _Good!_ Asala retorted with silent ire as she refrained from glaring, managing to restrict her face to a tightening of the muscles around her mouth and jaw in restrained censure. The woman ought to have realised a lot sooner what the rift could’ve done. She was annoyed, she knew she should reel it in, but she was getting tired of having to do that.

“Maker,” the woman mumbled before she drew herself up straight as Asala came to a halt in front of her. “I was a fool to have doubted you. How may we serve you, Herald of Andraste?” she said with a bow. Asala could do without the idiocy and reverence but didn’t say. She could’ve argued with them all day, she feared, and not gotten her point across. Or maybe that was just her temper speaking. Why did she have to decide what they were to do, though? What had proclaimed her as suited for the task? The mark that the Land of the Dead had thought it a good joke to slap on her hand? They were children, all of them, and in the worst possible way!

“You could help the refugees down at the Crossroads,” she replied as she fought, and won, to rein in her tone. “And those who haven’t made it to the village or simply eschewed it for the violence the fighting has brought there, too. They’re hiding in the hills with little shelter.” They’d seen one or two in the passing. She doubted that was all of them though. They must be hiding, scared of everything around them. She remembered that feeling.

The human nodded, her face serious as she took in every word. “Of course. Some few will remain here while the rest shall go forth and do your will. When the Maker calls you to his greater purpose, please remember who served you.”

Asala tried to refrain from gritting her teeth too hard as she inquired about a youth called Hyndel. What with the fighting they’d met on the way here, and the demons, the little fool could be dead somewhere along the way for all they knew. Apparently, by some stroke of unworldly luck, he had arrived. As they made their way through the fort, snippets of conversation floated past them.

“My lady, your mother and sister must miss you greatly. With your father’s passing at the Conclave—”

“No, the Inquisition can pick up the pieces of this world. We’ll find comfort in the next.”

Again, the Inquisition could do what the country’s leaders could not. Again and again and ag—

“Independent of your instructions and _because_ of your actions, they will spread the word of the Inquisition as they go.” Asala cast a quick glance at Cassandra as they moved into the fort’s left wing. “Their belief will make them do it.” She turned her gaze forward again. Faith. Again with the bloody faith! That was what had made them come here to begin with! Illusions!

“Ebasit vash-issra sataa-ost,” she ground out in a vehement whisper through clenched teeth.

“What does that mean?” She could hear the confused frown in Cassandra’s words and caught herself. She _could not_ keep using Qunlat loudly. She just _couldn’t_. She had to control herself better than this but the last week had been full of so many challenges and idiocy and… This wasn’t her job! It truly wasn’t! She took a faintly shuddering breath and forced her pace to slow a notch.

“I am irritated, that’s all,” she explained away the insult. She wasn’t about to apologise for it, not even if her companions had understood it. Their stupid illusion was a big part of the reason they were facing so much censure now and the trouble that came with it. No one contradicted her so she assumed they accepted the explanation. And she had to calm down before they reached the boy. Children didn’t need the ire of adults and especially when they hadn’t caused it. She took another, deeper, breath and let the exhale carry with it some, if not most, of her temper. It was a conscious effort but she managed.

They found the boy, a youth who hadn’t yet reached his mature years, in the tower. He couldn’t be more than seventeen or thereabout. Why had he left home?! Asala shook her head and explained why they were there. He looked shocked at her words, almost hurt. As well he should be, she thought.

“B-but she hasn't had the breathing trouble for years! I—” He composed himself admirably quick in Asala’s mind and it did endear him to her a bit. He moved to a nearby table and dug around among what she presumed were his belongings. They didn’t have to wait long. “Here,” he said as he came back, gently cradling a flask in his hands as well as a hastily scribbled note. “I have some already made. Take it to her now, please hurry!” He looked desperate enough, fearful even, that she would have done it without question normally… but this was not her normal situation. She took the bottle carefully, however, and tied it to her belt with utmost care before turning back to him and accepting the note.

“Why are you here?” she asked as she shook her head at him, regarding him with a gentle disappointment. He paused for a second, met her gaze and then let his fall, embarrassed. “Even with the fighting going on, you’re far from home, from the people who need you and those who you need, too.”

“Th-the Breach…” he began but trailed off, either out of failing conviction or her soft voice hitting home.

Asala shook her head again and regarded him with saddened eyes. “It's not the Breach that's important. You can feel it most of anywhere in the world.” She guessed because she didn’t know but kept her voice steady, sure. “You can certainly see it from where your family is. Why are you here, among strangers doing nothing, when there are those important to you elsewhere who need you? There are things only you can do for them. There’s no substitute to take over.” When he at last raised his gaze, she smiled warmly at him.

“I— Perhaps you're right.” He returned her smile, tentative at first but as hers remained, his grew. “Even if this world is an illusion soon to be cast off, I should make my parents comfortable,” he told her with a bud of confidence that hadn’t been there moments ago. Asala’s smile grew into a small grin. “I'll gather my things and go directly.”

“We’ll be heading back that way. Do you wish me to deliver the potion ahead of you?”

The boy paused in his path towards his belongings but the hesitation lasted only a heartbeat. “Yes. If you could, please.” Asala nodded once before leaving. They headed for the exit and were soon out in the open air and sunshine once again.

“You handled him quite well,” Varric commented and Asala threw him a crooked grin.

“I’ve dealt with a few youths in my days,” she agreed. “The end result is far more pleasing, and less frustrating, than dealing with other adults.”

“Huh,” Varric chuckled. “Can’t say I blame you there.”

They took care of one more rift before beginning their trek back to the Crossroads. Unless more opened, it meant that the eastern part of the southern hills were, hopefully, completely free of demons now. Once they arrived at their destination, Asala handed over the potion to the refugee as well as the news about their wayward son’s imminent return. The shock and then tearful smile almost wiped her remaining irritation clean. The fact that they would have to go take care of the hostile apostates in the Witchwood kept some of it alive though.

It took them a day or two to rout the mages. Once their cave and the surrounding woods were empty of idiots flinging spells at anyone who came near, as well as rifts, scouts were sent in to gather up supplies that had survived the fight. Asala was happy to see that most of the blankets and clothes had survived. A lot of the refugees had barely had enough on their bodies to stay warm. It’d been one of the bigger challenges for the people among the Inquisition’s forces that were trying to look after them.

The encampment of rogue templars had also been seen to by their forces, which left the road west thankfully clear as they followed it. The few rifts left in the area were centred in the west. Asala had thought the number of tears in the Dam here to be unduly high and Solas had insisted it wasn’t a surprise. Redcliffe’s name in itself was an explanation and the elf could confirm its belligerent history.

“There may actually be artefacts in the area, hidden inside ruins, that could strengthen the Veil against tears.” Asala turned her head to Solas, brows climbing towards her hairline.

“Really?”

The man nodded. “It’s highly likely. If we come across any, I’d like to take a closer look. The amount of rifts in this area makes me fear the centuries they have gone unattended has caused them to go dormant.”

“You would be able to locate them?” Because goodness knew she wouldn’t but Solas nodded. “All rig—” her words ended in an agonised yell as a piercing pain dug into her just below her collarbone. Solas threw up a shield as Asala’s sank to the ground while Cassandra went charging towards the enemy with Varric backing her up. Groaning in pain, Asala grasped the arrow shaft sticking out of her torso, one eye scrunched closed.

“I thought they’d taken care of all the templars in the area,” she hissed as she mentally prepared herself to pull out the projectile.

“People make misses. It’s mortal,” Solas told her as he remained close by but supported the other two.

“Well, I’d like to survive their misses!” she snapped even while she knew it wasn’t his fault but that _had_ been uncomfortably close to her jugular and her head. She stifled the agonised sound as well as she could when she tore out the arrow, preferring to do it quick rather than wiggle it out, before quickly casting her healing magic on the bleeding wound. “Besides,” she gasped as she seized her staff from the ground beside her, “I can’t do everything myself. I can’t even do everything with all of you at my side. We’re too few!” She heaved herself upright and began moving. As Solas reached out to place a hand on her arm to stop her, she shook her head. He didn’t argue but frowned at her. She would’ve preferred some rest, too, but they had to make sure the archer had been alone.

The two mages made their way over to the crumbling fort not far from the road where Cassandra and Varric had advanced after taking down the archer hidden in its shadow. “Well? How bad is it?”

“Bad,” Varric answered her in a voice that sounded like he had something disgusting in his mouth. As they joined their companions at the run-down entrance, she could see why. At the back of the main hall, laying nearly exposed to the entrance, stood a large, glowing crystal. Red lyrium… Varric’s displeasure from the ruined temple came back to her then.

“He was hiding in here you think?” she asked as she eyed the archer who’d been struck down in the doorway.

“Wouldn’t surprise me,” Varric muttered. “That shit can drive you crazy. Worst of all, it _whispers_ to you and it’s never anything good.”

Asala stiffened. “What do we do with it then?” It was awfully close to the village…

“Destroy it, if possible. Being close to it for a short moment won’t affect you much but prolonged exposure…” He didn’t continue but simply shook his head. He didn’t have to complete the sentence. If she’d had a carefully controlled, and small, amount of gaatlok the crystal could’ve been broken sufficiently without collapsing the fort. Or perhaps it’d be better to bury the damned thing. She mentioned the latter.

“We do not have the equipment or manpower to do that now,” Cassandra refuted the idea as she strode forward adamantly, sword sheathed but shield still at the ready. It took a while and caused sweat to bead upon the warrior’s brow but the single-minded determination to see it done shone out of Cassandra’s eyes the whole time. “We should destroy any other such cluster that we find,” the woman concluded as she came back to them, wiping her brow with her gauntlet. No one argued as they left the fort behind.

It took a while to get down into the shallow valley where the ranch and surrounding farms lay but once there, it wasn’t difficult to find the man they were searching for.

“I can’t help you.”

“What?” Asala blinked confusedly at the man.

“I can’t just send a hundred of the finest horses in Ferelden down the road like you send a letter,” he argued with a quick gesture of his hand. “Every bandit between here and Haven would be on them like flies on crap and that’d help neither of us. Until their safe arrival can be guaranteed, the beasts are staying put.” He wouldn’t yield, she could tell that by just looking at him, and she could see his point. “There’s been some unearthly trouble with the wolves ever since that big tear in the sky opened up, not to talk about all the extra hands running up and down the road now that order is low on the priority list for every idiot in charge. My wife can tell you more about the wolves but you should speak to my task master, Bron, as he had some ideas regarding security on the roads.” The man paused to scratch his white beard. “Until this mess is sorted, however, you should have something sturdier to take you from here to Haven or wherever else you need to go. Out in front of the stables there’s a chestnut stallion, purebred Fereldan Forder. If you now ride horses that is. Maker only knows how your feet don’t drag on the ground but that’s between you and the horse.”

Asala blinked at him again but somewhat unsure this time. “We ride,” she assured him tentatively. “Just… with appropriately sized mounts?” Dennet laughed.

“Fair enough, Inquisition. Well, yours is the biggest of the herd so he’ll hopefully do it for you. Take care of him and he’ll take care of you.”

The ideas regarding how to heighten security that Bron had were simple enough and word could be sent back to Haven ahead of them when they returned to the main Inquisition camp in the Hinterlands. The details regarding the wolves, however, were more disturbing.

“Could the wolves have actually been tainted?”

Solas shook his head at Cassandra’s suggestion as they trekked up through the wooded hillside in search of the den. “Unlikely. I fear that possession of the pack leader, or something similar, is the far more likely culprit in this case. What with so many rifts having opened in this particular area, it is not improbable that…” He swiftly trailed off at the same time as Asala came to a halt, eyes darting over the shrouded forest, hills and rocks.

“What is it?” Neither mage turned or looked at the warrior as she and Varric both began to reach for their weapons as well.

“We’re being watched,” Asala whispered as her hand slowly closed around her staff, a new piece of equipment since waking up in Haven for the second time. It was bare as far as personal details went though as she hadn’t yet had the time to decorate it.

“Watch out!” Cassandra’s shield came up just in time to deflect some of the impact from the large, black wolf that’d ambushed them from above. Had Solas’s call came a moment later, or the warrior reacted slower, there might have been a broken bone from the fall against the rocky terrain. The human shoved her shield to the side with a fierce yell, throwing off the wolf that landed on all four, much to their amazement. It growled, baring fangs and froth, before charging again, wholly uncaring for its own life. Halfway to them, it stumbled and went down as the ice spell Solas threw connected with it, frosting its front legs and chest. It gave Cassandra an opening and she quickly moved in and severed the neck.

“If that was normal for the wolves here, I’m a nug’s uncle,” Varric commented as his eyes roamed the surrounding cliffs but despite seeing nothing, he didn’t put his crossbow away.

Solas cast a quick glance at Asala and she nodded. She was sure his silent inquiry meant the eyes; they’d had a sheen of green glow to them and while faint, it’d been there. “I believe this confirms the theory of possession,” he said as Cassandra turned towards them. “We must press on and find either the demon or the possessed pack leader.” The warrior nodded curtly before taking the lead. It didn’t take too long to locate the dell that apparently served as a den.

“For being sunlit and green, this place sure manages to be cheerless,” Varric muttered as they eased deeper into dell, tall cliffs on either side encroaching upon them in an almost oppressing manner. No one spoke for it went without saying; they agreed.

“Do you sense any rift?” Solas inquired in a low voice but Asala shook her head. Oddly, she sensed nothing of the like, just remnants wafting here and there, most likely from the demon itself having been here for days if not weeks. That it hadn’t moved beyond was a wonder. Where had it even strayed from? There were a few more rifts in the general area but no one near here...

A sudden screech rent the air, echoing up and down the corridors the cliffs made, and a shadow appeared above them. And began growing fast! The tall, gangly demon landed with a crash in the middle of their group, having jumped down from above, and just barely missed them. Had it landed on any of them, it would’ve been ugly. It gave another shriek as it rose, the growls of wolves filling the dell from all directions now, too. Cassandra wasted no time in rushing it with her shield as everyone else began backing up while casting alert gazes all around for the beasts that would be near. Suddenly they seemed to be popping out of everywhere. Asala whipped around to stand back-to-back with Varric, a feat she found more difficult than she’d imagined, as Solas threw an ice spell that caught a wolf that’d been crouching down for a sprint. It seemed to anger the rest because suddenly they were all charging forward at once. Behind her, Asala could hear the twang of Bianca as she threw a barrage spell of her own and Solas slammed a cold snare into place that took out a wolf a scant few metres away from him. Meanwhile, Cassandra had her hands full as the demon swiped at her and she dodged before coming back at it in a whirl, the movement giving her additional momentum. The demon screeched in both anger and agony as one of its spindly arms fell to the ground, severed.

Asala threw up a barrier just in time as a wolf darted in to snap at her ankle and Varric took the opening behind her, setting a bolt neatly in the middle of the demon’s head. It screeched, convulsed and collapsed to the ground, clawing at its face. Cassandra rushed in and took its head of in a two handed strike. The crescendo of growls in the dell rose a few octaves as the demon keened its last before the place almost fell deathly silent as the wolves abruptly fell back.

Asala didn’t relax out of her offensive stance as she warily swept her eyes up and down the cliffs. “Is that it?”

Solas nodded in between catching his breath. “With the demon dead, the pack should no longer feel the urge to throw themselves at the farmers like they recently have.” Up and down the dell, both near and further away, a song reverberated, causing a crooked smile to appear on the elf’s lips. “I would also assume that the wolves are relieved to be free of the unnatural compulsion.”

Asala let out her breath in a woosh and nodded. “All right. Then let’s head back. There are still a few things we need to do here before leaving.”

After they spoke to Dennet once more and the man finally relented on going to Haven himself, a note was sent to start the process for getting the promised watchtowers into place before they could finally head into the south-western hills. The only rifts left in the region appeared to be there and the consensus was that they should be dealt with, thus securing the area completely. It was on the way back, while passing the Crossroads, that Solas mentioned he thought one of the elven artefacts that strengthened the Dam might be nearby. He’d be a lot more likely to sense it now that the area was stable and there were no rifts left to cause magical disturbances. There was no reason not to look and every reason to find them, Asala agreed, and so they headed east out of the village.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ebasit vash-issra sataa-ost. – Your world is a shitty illusion. (Or, more colloquially: your ideas and views are crap.)
> 
> Has anyone ever tried blowing up the red lyrium with a well aimed flashfire spell? It can shatter them, eliminating the need for a warrior. I managed this on accident once and have been using it from time to time.  
> I've actually not played the multiplayer before and didn't, until today, read about the unlockable character Hissera. It's interesting how similar her story is to Asala's, with the exception of her not hiding her magic, of course.


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Inquisition visits Val Royeaux to meet with the Chantry. With respectful if brief mention of frilly cakes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Somewhat delayed due to holidays and a picture that I had to finish before I could move on. (See end notes)

They’d found the artefact, hidden in a dusty, old ruin whose entrance had been long since blocked by fallen rubble. Solas had demonstrated the pure muscle of magic, however, as he’d easily lifted it aside with arcane energies, surprising both Asala and the other elf, a young woman, they’d met on the way. Her cause was the same and Asala couldn’t read any lie in her words, so they’d allowed the girl to come along. What they were searching for _was_ of her people after all and since Solas was currently staying with the Inquisition, maybe the girl could look after the thing to make sure it stayed active. And then they’d come across that fire; that weird, fantastical, creepy, wondrous fire that made Asala’s left hand tingle in a way she could only describe as “homesickness”. Yet she’d never seen such a fire before. It was odd. Solas taught her how to light the special braziers while explaining its use and origins, its meaning. It was somehow… sad. A memory of flame, as though the fire couldn’t let go of itself and what it had been. They’d found the artefact in the end and parted ways with the elven woman after activating it. After days of travel and traversing the mountain passes, they were finally back but seeing the crowd gathered in front of the chantry and the angry words that filtered down from it, Asala thought she’d rather head out again. As in now, immediately, before it exploded up ahead. She couldn’t do that though, she conceded with a sigh. But then the gaatlok up ahead detonated.

“Your kind killed the Most Holy!”

“Lies! Your kind let her die!”

Before it could all burst into flames however, and before Asala could run up there and attempt a disarming herself, whatever she now would’ve done, the commander came hurrying out of the chantry. His voice carried as he called for order and bodily separated the two most active aggressors. _Wow_ , was all Asala could think. She was glad she had him there. Had Cassandra not stopped before the gates to Haven proper to speak with one of the sergeants training the troops, Asala assumed she would’ve been up there instead. The woman could be harsh, as she’d even confessed to knowing herself to be at one point, but she got things done. Asala appreciated that and could overlook their initial meeting in favour of it. As young as the Inquisition was, it needed strong souls to guide it. Many humans seemed to rely on charisma for a reason Asala couldn’t say. If you relied on it in the beginning, while you grew into a role no one had prepared you for then fair enough but if you _kept on_ using it, like a crutch, because you couldn’t get others to follow you without it? Were you truly where you should be then? Cullen, while not of as strong a presence as Cassandra, had a steady power to him, like a banked fire. The Seeker held an open flame in her hands but was immune to the heat and neither was she afraid of it. Asala felt that even if water would be thrown upon the woman, her flame would go on. It may sputter and hiss and drop in intensity, but it wouldn’t go out. Ever. Such a strong belief and mind was appealing and it made people follow. The Inquisition was in good hands.

And then the Chancellor’s words cut through the din of arguing people, making Asala wish to cringe. He’d apparently been away while they had, too. She wished he could’ve stayed away a bit longer, not come back almost at the same time as them. Cullen seemed to be of a mind, too, as he dispersed the crowd, leaving only the three of them. She would’ve preferred to leave with the rest but even if she would’ve considered it, it wouldn’t have worked. Sneaking, when of a completely different skin colour compared to everyone else and at least half a head taller, not counting her horns, than most, didn’t work out so well. She decided to take the bull by the horns, as the humans seemed to be fond of saying, and walked up to the two men.

Cullen turned his attention to her and shook his head tiredly. That sort of summed up the whole thing perfectly, she agreed silently. “Mages and Templars were already at war. Now they’re blaming each other for the Divine’s death,” he sighed irritably.

“Which is why we require a _proper_ authority to guide them back to order.”

The chancellor’s words grated lightly on Asala’s patience. Normally she would’ve agreed, said he was speaking the most sense since she’d met him even, but currently the greatest attempt at order had been the Inquisition.

“Who, you?” The commander’s words were as close to a scoff as anyone would dare go without being actually insulting. Asala admired his restraint. Hers had been slowly dying ever since she woke up after the Breach had been dealt with. “Or the random clerics who weren’t important enough to be at the Conclave?”

Roderick’s brows dipped in censure as he met the commander’s gaze. “The rebel Inquisition and its so-called “Herald of Andraste”? I think not,” he scoffed, making no attempt to hide his thoughts on the matter in voice or words.

“And if the proper authority hadn’t failed,” _and was still failing to do its duty_ , Asala added silently, “the Inquisition wouldn’t be needed to begin with,” she argued while trying to hold on to her calm. So far she was winning that contest. Now that she thought about it, hadn’t the proper authority failed long before the formation of the Inquisition? Why had they needed the Conclave at all if that wasn’t the case? How long had things been crumbling in the south? Had it begun to fall apart during her time here or before then? It was difficult to tell without any knowledge about the recent years and only very sporadic accounts of the happenings over the last two. Varric seemed knowledgeable enough about a lot of things and history. Maybe he would know and give her the least biased version? Cassandra, while harsh and fair in her assessment of many things, might be biased towards that which she’d worked for. Maybe Asala was judging the woman wrong though, she wasn’t entirely sure.

“So you suggest I blame the Chantry and exalt a murderer?” The chancellor’s words made her focus on him with a frown. This again?

“I did not kill the Divine,” she spelled out slowly, managing to catch herself before calling the woman “theirs”. She didn’t need them accusing her, in some roundabout, out of context way, of being callous to the Chantry and their beliefs. She had enough with the blame for death of their Ariqun to actively try and make them think she was attempting to tear down the whole structure of their faith and order.

“There is no proof of that,” the chancellor ground out. “The people need proof to believe it. They need justice.” Asala refrained from scoffing at his words, stating that they already believed in something that there was no proof of. That there had been a woman in ancient times called Andraste and that she had marched upon the powers in charge back then was possible to prove but that she was being directed by some higher power? Silly, if you asked her. She didn’t say it though. It would’ve been as bad as confessing to not truly caring for the Chantry. She _did_ care for it in so far as it had served a purpose. A purpose it had arguably failed at in the end but there was no reason to pick on those details now.

“None of that will help us restore order in the here and now,” Cullen said in an attempt to get them back on track and away from anything that could be harmful to the peace and order in Haven. The chancellor continued to argue and Asala forced a deliberate intake of breath to zone him out.

“Commander,” she said and hoped it didn’t come across as suffering as it sounded to her ears, “please remind me why you’re allowing the Chancellor to stay?”

The man in question snorted. “Clearly your _templar_ knows where to draw the line.”

A muscle in Asala’s throat jumped and she snapped her attention back onto the clergy member. “He’s the _commander_ of the Inquisition and has done more of _your job_ than I’ve seen anyone do lately, _Chantry_ ,” she ground out as she glared at him. She could tell that the Lord Chancellor wished to take a step back but just barely managed not to. Shokrakar had once said she had a good pair of eyes to glare with but she rarely used them to their full capacity. She hadn’t understood what the other woman had meant until now but perhaps it was better, at this express moment, the Lord Chancellor didn’t feel like she was threatening his life.

Beside them Cullen cleared his throat almost inaudibly. It brought her back to the situation at hand and she turned her eyes onto the blond man. “He’s toothless.” Cullen’s words pulled one corner of her mouth up and since the man reciprocated, Asala assumed that had been on purpose. She allowed her gratitude to fill her eyes for a moment to let him know she’d caught the hint. The chancellor must have thought it beneath him to give a retort to the commander’s joke though, something Asala was grateful for. She would prefer if this discussion ended quickly so they could address the problem of the Chantry.

“Commander, is the spymaster and ambassador available? Seeker Pentaghast will be with us shortly so that we may address the next matter on the list.” For some reason Asala felt that they would have an easier time getting away from the chancellor if she didn’t mention exactly what the next matter was. Cullen nodded and motioned towards the still open doors behind him. Asala nodded and set off.

“You’ll have to excuse us, chancellor.” She heard Cullen state before joining her.

“Is there a reason beside the chancellor being a only a verbal nuisance that he’s allowed to stay?” she asked when they were a few steps away from the door despite the man having closed it. They didn’t need cold air rushing through the building any more than it already had from his quick exit.

Cullen shook his head. “There’s no point turning him into a martyr simply because he runs at the mouth.” She guessed she could see what he meant with that, however much of a pain it proved to be. “The chancellor is a good indicator of what to expect in Val Royeaux, however.”

“The only bright point then,” Asala agreed as they arrived at the door through which they could hear the murmur of a conversation. It appeared both Leliana and Josephine were already in place. She paused momentarily with her hand on the handle. “Don’t let anyone riot while we’re gone?” she told the man with a lopsided smile and faint amusement dancing in her eyes alongside the light from the flickering torches. Cullen gave a short laugh.

“The walls will be standing when you return,” he assured her but then frowned. “I hope…” She hoped so as well.

They went inside and while waiting for Cassandra, a few other issues were brought forward, most of them relating to the refugees who were moving through Ferelden. Once the warrior arrived, the real problem was addressed.

“Having the Herald address the clerics is not a terrible idea.”

Cullen turned to stare at the Antivan woman. “You can’t be serious.”

The ambassador frowned at him. “Mother Giselle isn’t wrong,” she said with a shake of her head. “At the moment, the Chantry’s only strength is that they’re united in opinion.”

Leliana didn’t look convinced. “And we should ignore the danger to the Herald?”

“Let’s ask her.” At Josephine’s words, all eyes turned to the tallest, by only a little compared to Cullen, person in the room. Asala guessed it was right to ask her but she felt as undecided about what was the best course of action here as the rest of the war council was divided in opinion.

“What is this meant to achieve?” The commander seemed to be of a mind that it was unnecessary and only lent the Chantry’s accusations and fears credence. Asala could see the point of going but on the other hand, she agreed with the man. “I know we’re aiming to calm them and put their fears to rest but what can we realistically hope to get out of such a trip compared to its costs? Are there others in or around the city that the Inquisition needs to speak to? Have there been reports of rifts nearby?”

“No such reports as of yet, thankfully,” Leliana agreed with relief lightly touching her face.

“And there’s always the possibility of making new connections,” Josephine added with a nod. Asala had to give it to her; the woman saw an opportunity or possibility in almost any situation and where it wasn’t immediately apparent… she would try and use her words to turn the situation around. Josephine was the best person for her role, whether or not Asala agreed with her on what needed to be done. “The Chantry’s opinion will undoubtedly, however, grow in strength and we do not need that. If we address them, if _you_ address them specifically, we might be able to control the damage before it grows large enough to actually harm us.”

Leliana nodded. “Words may not seem like much when they’re few and far between, but with enough of anything, you can bury a person or matter.” Asala regarded the map spread out before with a frown. The spymaster couldn’t say that the clergy didn’t bother her but she also seemed to be of a mind that there were other ways to get around, or deal with, them. The silence in the room grew, leaving Asala to wonder why so much depended upon her thoughts in a matter. They must have made some decisions before she woke up in the dungeon and while she was out after the Breach.

“I’ll go with her.” She looked up from the map to meet Cassandra’s brown eyes. Blinking once in surprise, she gave the Nevarran a grateful smile. After that, the conversation was cut short. There were differentiating opinions and minor disagreements but Cassandra had the most important part in mind; they needed allies to deal with the Breach properly and permanently and none were stepping forth. The Chantry was actively blocking the path for anyone that might even consider rendering aid. It needed to be dealt with. They would see it through, Cassandra decided adamantly. Asala hoped the Nevarran was correct and that once this was dealt with, they could get to those they needed.

****************

The journey north went along the Imperial Highway and past Lydes before they left the horses and took a boat across the western edge of the Waking Sea to at long last reach Val Royeaux. Asala had travelled a fair bit with the Valo-Kas before this but being part of the Inquisition was beginning to imply a lot more travel than she’d ever done. She hadn’t taken a boat since she’d left Par Vollen behind and landed in Hercinia. Once there she hadn’t stayed long in the Free Marches, wanting the most distance possible between herself and her old home. It was the reason she’d continued westward until she ran into the Val-Kas in Val Chevin and joined them. They operated almost solely in Orlais, which was one of the reasons she stayed with them but the other had been a moment of weakness; she’d been homesick and badly so. In the end, it’d proven a good choice. Well, until they took the job of guarding the Conclave that is.

Her kith had passed Val Royeaux a few times but she’d only ever gone in once. It’d been while in the company of Katoh and Kaariss to buy a few supplies and… a few unnecessities, as Shokrakar had labled them when she found out. The reason they hadn’t all gone in was simple; too many of them at once, Taarlok had told her, and the humans began getting nervous. Maybe they were afraid the kith wouldn’t see them and step on them or something, Kaariss had mused while walking around the shops. The shops had had so many different things. On some points, though, she could agree with Shokrakar. Why were the cakes so decorated? Wasn’t that just a waste upon a waste?

It all looked the same as far as Asala could tell as they arrived to walk up the bridge over the manmade canal that had probably served a much more practical function as a moat in days long gone. The sudden gasp from a passing couple drew their attention and made Asala frown unhappily as the lady looked fit to faint, she even stumbled. Asala would like to say that news had spread terribly fast but considering how she was a Qunari, and in the company of the late Divine’s Right Hand, a person whose appearance had to be known at least a little, it couldn’t be a difficult guess for anyone who she was. For the first time since arriving on mainland Thedas was Asala feeling uncomfortable with her looks. Well, for the second time if she was completely honest. The first time had been the days following the loss of half of her horns. It just wasn't something that a proper Qunari did of their own free will. Some Tal-Vashoth though…

As they passed through the gates into the avenue leading to the Summer Bazar, a woman in familiar garb and insignia came jogging up to them. If what she wore hadn’t tipped them off, the fact that she kneeled and called Asala “lady Herald” would have.

“The Chantry mothers await you, but… so do a great many templars.” The report wasn’t comforting, causing Asala to frown right along with Cassandra.

“There are Templars here?” The warrior sounded surprised but Asala would’ve liked to go for hopeful if she wasn’t so doubtful of their reason for being in the city. They couldn’t have come back to their senses, could they?

“Maybe they’ve returned to the fold to deal with us upstarts?” Varric guessed but he didn’t sound very certain of it. The scout seemed troubled though.

“People seem to think the templars will protect them from… from the Inquisition!” she choked out, as though she couldn’t believe she actually had to say it, that it shouldn’t be possible and it hurt. Asala gave the young woman a sympathetic smile. Poor girl. However, if that was what the people thought…

“Is that the truth though? Have the templars confirmed those beliefs?”

The scout cast her face down to the paved path. “I’m sorry, I…” She seemed to gather herself despite what she felt was a failure of duty on her part and looked up at Asala again. “It’s been impossible to get any word from the Order itself. The Mothers are gathering at the other end of the market and based on their movement today, I think that’s where the templars intend to meet you, too.”

Asala gave a nod and a smile. “You’ve done well.” The scout reciprocated the gesture as she stood up. Asala guessed that the woman felt better about her report now since it hadn’t been badly received.

“Return to Haven.” Asala turned to regard Cassandra whose whole face was one great big frown. “Someone will need to tell them if we… are delayed.” She sounded as though she found the matter foul tasting. The scout quickly came to attention before setting off at a quick clip.

“We were expecting something like this,” Asala attempted to soothe the irate warrior once the scout was gone. “Ambassador Montilyet warned us of such sentiments.” Cassandra didn’t argue or agree but her face said it all; speculating was one thing while facing actual opposition was another. Asala agreed. If a group of ten templars or more were present and insisted on removing her from the market, regardless of whether it was out of the city or into custody, there was nothing they could do about it. Cassandra, while skilled and dependable in battle, Varric and Solas, too, would not be able to take on those kind of numbers. It had been a good move to send the scout on ahead.

Moving down the avenue, they soon reached the market. It didn’t take long to locate the Mothers as they’d acquired quite the audience. Asala guessed that was to be expected. The templars didn’t appear to be in there in numbers yet though, just a token force to guard the clerics. It was something she was grateful for. It became obvious they’d been spotted because once they were close enough to hear the woman heading the group of humans in Chantry vestments, her words began to change.

“Good people of Val Royeaux, hear me!” She had a good, clear voice, especially for someone who was getting on in her years. Asala wasn’t sure of her age, she’d always had trouble judging a human’s age. They often appeared older than they were due to strain of the elements and lesser sanitation or healthcare. The second was one of the things she missed the most from Par Vollen. Another was a good balm for her horns. It just wasn’t something you could easily come by down in the south.

“Together we mourn our Divine,” the elder continued as she locked eyes with Asala, walking closer to the edge of the podium she stood upon. For a second, Asala had hoped the Chantry had, at long last, decided to simply focus on comforting the masses and lead them to a clearer path but the near hostile gaze punctured that hoped and the Mother’s next words completely executed it. “Her naïve and beautiful heart silenced by treachery!” This wasn’t going to go as easy as they'd hoped and probably not even as badly as they feared. Asala was beginning to worry it was going to go worse than that. The Mother’s gaze and tone seemed to imply as much. “You wonder what will become of her murderer. Well, wonder no more!”

Asala frowned and began turning her head towards Cassandra while still keeping her eyes upon the cleric. She had a bad feeling about this and wasn’t sure if it was better to start backing away now or simply stand alert. She began to wonder how sure Mother Giselle had been of the people who might be willing to listen to reason or if the message had been shared with one too many and the wrong people had attended instead, while the right ones were kept away. “Behold! The so-called ‘Herald of Andraste’, claiming to rise where our beloved fell.”

“Seeker, I think—”

“We say; this is a _false_ prophet!”

“—something may have gone wrong here,” she whispered, taking her eyes off the Mother long enough to see Cassandra’s fist clenching the hilt of her sword uneasily. So she wasn’t the only one thinking it…

“A wicked Qunari sent to subvert the Maker’s word.”

Asala winced and turned her attention back to the podium. “We are only here to talk, as you well know since it was the Inquisition who requested the Chantry’s presence. If we wished to undermine anyone or anything, we wouldn’t have called for you to meet with us. We would—”

“Such lies! Like the demon falling from the Fade into this world.”

“Please, I am _not_ the enemy.” It felt pointless to try but try she would. It was the least she could do, wasn’t it? Or maybe it was _all_ she could do. She didn’t know what else to do at the moment. “The Breach in the sky is our _true_ enemy. We must unite to stop it.

“It’s true. The Inquisition seeks only to end this madness before it is too late.” Asala was grateful for Cassandra’s attempt to aid her but it didn’t appear to have much of an effect. The woman speaking from the podium just twisted her mouth as she glared at them. Something moved in Asala’s peripheral vision and she turned at the same time as the Mother.

“It is already too late!” the woman proclaimed as Asala drew in a harsh but quiet breath at what she saw. Templars. A dozen of them, at least, and that was only the ones she could see coming towards the podium. Solas had noted that the templars at the crossroads probably hadn’t faced a mage of any real talent in a while and whether that was true or not for these men, and few women, so was it not a comfort in the here and now. She’d heard of the templars’ abilities and while she appreciated them and their use, now was not the time to be faced by them in such overwhelming numbers. Together with the ones already present, they numbered near twenty! Like so many times before, she wondered if she would now get to see, get to experience, what might have happened if she’d been discovered while actively using her powers while still on Par Vollen. A sound beside her brought her out of the contemplation before it ran wild. Cassandra had taken a quiet intake of breath, followed by a name; Lord Seeker Lucius. If the warrior knew the man leading these people then maybe they stood a chance to get him to at least listen?

“The Templars have returned to the Chantry!” The woman had turned back to regard Asala triumphantly. As she spoke, the four templars at the head of the group headed up the steps at the side of the podium to join her. “They will face this ‘Inquisition’ and the people will be safe once more— Augh!”

Every nerve in Asala’s body, even her shoulders and fingers twitched harshly as one of the Templars gaining the podium struck the older woman at the back of her head. She fell forward, hard, and didn’t immediately get up. Asala had jumped half a step forward before she managed to stop herself. It was impossible to tell if the templars, or even the civilians present, wouldn’t attack her if she even just tried to help the woman up. It rankled that she didn’t know whether she could move forward or would be struck down for the attempt at kindness. No, not even kindness, what was right to do. The man leading the templars, whose hair had begun to grey despite his not yet too advanced years, calmly walked up to the younger member of the Order who’d been standing guard there since they arrived. He clapped the visibly disquieted man on the arm and gave a sharp smile she had only seen in humans who were no stranger to violence and used to leading. He knew his men.

“Still yourself. She is beneath us.”

Asala almost choked. _What?_ She had to try a second time before her voice came to her. “How dare you strike a priest?! And an elder at that?” The Mother may not have been reasonable but you _didn’t_ strike an elder. You didn’t strike someone who wasn’t trained to strike back, period. “What is the meaning of this?” she spat out as the man turned towards them. He didn’t so much sneer but it was there in his eyes as he met her livid gaze.

“Her claim to authority is an insult, much like your own,” he stated without fanfare before leaving the podium as though nothing had happened. Asala couldn’t believe her senses. He could just not walk away like… like it was nothing!

“Lord Seeker Lucius!” She wasn’t sure whether to snap at Cassandra to not even try. The man was obviously out of his wits! He was useless. No, worse than that! He was less than fit for his role if this was how he acted when he clearly was a man of skill; his whole demeanour said he was! The woman was either hoping against hope or incredibly naïve. That, or Asala’s calm was breaking faster than ever before and she wasn’t sure which to hope for herself. “It’s imperative that we speak with—”

“You will not address me.”

She froze at the calm tone. Mid-turn she just froze, as though a frost mine trap had exploded all around her, and just stared. No… No, he couldn’t… He couldn’t be that uncaring and… and nonchalant! He just… couldn’t. “Lord Seeker?” Cassandra’s voice mirrored Asala’s disbelief although it appeared milder, as though she thought she hadn’t heard him right and _that_ was why she was confused.

The man stopped, briefly, to turn and regard them with scornful eyes. “Creating a heretical movement, raising up a _puppet_ as Andraste’s prophet... You should be ashamed,” he berated the warrior as though he was disappointed with a youthful charge’s actions. His eyes moved to sweep over the gathering, including the Chantry clerics. “You should all be ashamed! The templars failed no one when they left the Chantry to purge the mages.”

Cassandra _had_ said that the Seeker Order’s reaction to the Conclave was to be expected, that there could have been no other response. Asala hadn’t been sure who she agreed with more but she could see how and why they had acted as they did but now… “This isn’t about the mages anymore! It’s about the Breach!” Asala pointed out exasperatedly as she felt a tiny grain of desperation start to grow. Had the Breach caused so much energy to leak from the Beyond that everyone who hadn’t been close to it when it opened had been struck down with inanity? She _had_ seen sense and reason, some honour even, among the Southerners. It had made her believe that this was the bit of sense that made the mainland function, why the Qun hadn’t been brought here yet! But this… why? Was this all because of the Breach? Did it bring to the fore all those who should be removed? The faults that prevented those with true sense, sanity and reason from leading. She just didn’t know anymore.

The Lord Seeker simply sneered at her words as she stared at him. “Your lies and persuasion won’t move me. I know what you are.” Asala blinked at him in confusion. He could mean anything by that statement. That she was a Qunari, a mage or a false speaker trying to use their faith against them. “If you came to appeal to the Chantry, you’re too late,” he continued and he seemed to stand even taller, arrogance beginning to creep into his voice towards the end of the sentence to then explode into full bloom. “The only destiny here that demands respect is mine.”

Asala could only stare for a few heartbeats. The man turned, as though to leave, and her whole face contorted into rage. “How can you claim to be an authority and to work for the good of the people when you act like this?” she demanded as she stomped a step closer. More than one hand landed on the hilt of a sword among the templars but the Lord Seeker seemed unperturbed as he calmly turned partway to regard her. “How does this serve the people? How does this protect them?” His arrogant calm and condescending stare, his plain unwillingness to just _listen to reason_ ate at her, tore at the remains of her calm and fanned the flames of her ire. She was so tired of this! “I never harmed the Divine and while the Inquisition is yet to prove itself in the eyes of all established authorities, you vandalise your own institution with your words and demands. You are unfit to lead!” she spat, eyes ablaze. “The commander of the Inquisition forces was a templar before he saw the danger the Breach puts upon the world. If your duty is to suppress harmful magic then do as commander Rutherford did and aid the Inquisition! We need people who can suppress the Breach’s power.

At long last there was a spark of something other than arrogance and calm in the Lord Seeker’s eyes. Too bad it was only scorn. “You are a mage,” he sneered at her, as though her claim to working alongside even an ex-templar made anything the man had done before he joined the Inquisition null and void. “Your ties are worthless, just as those of anyone standing beside you. Anyone is made a traitor just by being in your company,” he said, confirming her fears.

“But Lord Seeker, what if she really was sent by the Maker?” Despite the uncertainty of the words, they were able to break through the din in Asala’s head. Her eyes shot to the younger man who’d just walked up to the Lord Seeker. Did he…? Hope, however small and pale, dawned at the horizon of her heart. Another man of the Order walked closer to them, eyes unfriendly and burning with… just _something_ else.

“You’re called to a higher purpose. Do not question.” His statement left little room for argument and made Asala grit her teeth almost painfully. The dedication and concentration was good but… their leader needed to direct it properly! Some small part at the back of her brain began to flash in warning. She _had_ to calm down.

“ _I_ will make the Templar Order a power that stands alone against the Void,” the Lord Seeker declared before turning his attention back onto them. “We deserve recognition. Independence!” Asala could only stare at him. Egoistic… _That_ was the plain and simple truth as to why he was unfit to lead. He didn’t lack reason, he just lacked the required amount of selflessness that was _demanded_ by a leader. A heart couldn’t beat only when it pleased or leave the chest to sit in the stomach or brain. It beat for the rest of the body to function. She ground her teeth together hard to keep herself in check. If she spoke now, she was liable to either curse the fool in Qunlat or recite phrases from the Qun. Neither which would help the Inquisition and certainly not her. “You have shown me nothing,” the Lord Seeker declared as he met her glare head on, “and the Inquisition… less than nothing,” he finished with a disgusted sneer. “Templars! Val Royeaux is unworthy of our protection! We march!” Asala’s gaze grew dark as she glared at the man while he turned and left, all the templars present in the grand market square following his lead. Not one a single one of them stayed and, to some tiny degree, Asala could appreciate their dedication. She didn’t fault them as much as their leader. That was not to say she didn’t blame them for not questioning their leader more. If the current head of any group was unfit to lead, then it had to be replaced and such a replacement came from within its own ranks. Who else would know the needs and demands the best? If none of them rose up, then… None were, most likely, fit to take over.

“Charming fellow, isn’t he?” Even Asala didn’t miss the sarcasm in Varric’s remark.

“Has Lord Seeker Lucius gone mad?”

Asala glared after the departing soldiers. “He better have,” she ground out her response to Cassandras probably rhetoric question. _He better fucking have!_ she cursed silently as her anger lashed at the mental walls surrounding her mind. How could he have _so little_ sense!? Now, if ever, people needed to keep their sense and he was throwing more than just his in the sea; he was throwing in the whole Order! _If_ anyone _should be losing their senses, it should be me! Because I have a freaking_ hole _to the Land of the bleeding_ Dead _in my hand!_

Something, somewhere nearby, crackled. It took her a second, and another small flare, to realise that it was _her_. Asala bit down hard on the inside of her cheek and dug her nails even harder into the palm of her marked hand. _Maraas-ataash ataashi-vashedan!_ She cast a horrified glance down at her hand, feeling her fingers tingle and like they weren’t really… completely there, as though the nails and fingers up to the first knuckle were disappearing into a stream of… _energy._ She pulled the tips of her fingers away from the palm, holding it in a very loose but cramped fist. She dug the nails of her other hand into the unmarked palm instead as she tried to control her breathing. _Asit kost say sataa. Maraas shokra. Anaan esaam Qun._ She had to repeat the line three times before she felt herself breathing more normally again. She couldn’t—! She couldn’t lose control now. Not here!

“Are you all right?”

Asala blinked hard, turning her head to regard Cassandra. The warrior wasn’t the only one who’d noticed her silence. Asala swallowed and nodded despite herself. “How well do you know this… man?” She had wanted to call the Lord Seeker something else. Something else entirely…

“Passably well…” the woman shook her head, “or so I thought. He took over the Seekers of Truth two years ago, after Lord Seeker Lambert’s death. He was always a decent man, never given to ambition or grandstanding. This is very bizarre,” Cassandra trailed off as she turned her focus to the gate that the templars had exited through. Asala ground her teeth at those news but gave a terse nod.

“Maybe something can be salvaged,” she muttered before turning away from the gates and spotting the Chantry Mother who’d been hit. She was still on the deck of the podium but conscious and leaning heavily on her arms. Asala almost missed Cassandra’s note of them returning to Haven as she hurried over to the woman surrounded by her fellow clerics. She did come to a bit of a stuttering halt though when the priest looked up, her eyes still faintly hostile.

“This victory must please you greatly, Seeker Cassandra,” she told them bitterly. Asala cast her gaze to the side where someone had laid the Mother’s hat to ease the burden on her neck.

Cassandra shook her head though. “This is not our doing, Revered Mother Hevara, but yours. We came here only to speak with the Mothers.”

“And you had no part in forcing our hand? Do not delude yourself,” the elder replied unhappily. Asala took a deep breath and shook her head lightly. This could go on all day. She moved closer with assured steps before sinking down to one knee before the podium, coming eye to eye with the cleric who regarded her suspiciously. She either wasn’t in a position to move around much or she refused to show fear by pulling away. Holding up her unmarked hand, palm up, Asala offered it to the Mother.

“I am not about to harm you. You are in pain, priest. Please allow me to soothe it,” she encouraged the other with a soft smile. The elder may not have spoken kindly to her and she hadn’t been much aid when it came to trying to restore order but that wasn’t the reason Asala offered to heal her.

“Why would you…?” The woman didn’t seem to know how to phrase it and Asala spared her by answering the unfinished question.

“Because I can heal and it is right. You are in pain, elder, and I am here. You may decline the offer and even if I already knew the likelihood of you accepting my aid being low, I would still make it.” It didn’t have to be complicated. It was just pure and simple reason, what was right and what should be done. _Asit tal-eb._ The older woman met her gaze for a good while before she slowly frowned.

“Just tell me one thing…” the Mother trailed off as her eyes grew careful, somewhat softer even but not entirely free from worry or suspicion, as she regarded Asala. “Do you believe that you are the Maker’s chosen?”

Asala blinked at the human, for a heartbeat unable to say or do anything else. She was certain she hadn’t imagined the tiny spark of desperation, of need for an answer and comfort, in the woman’s eyes as she asked the question. Once the surprise let go, her lips widened in a gentle smile. “No, I do not, Revered Mother.”

“Then what are you?”

“Just someone who can help end this madness,” Asala replied gently. She wasn’t entirely sure of that herself but she didn’t let that sentiment appear in her words, smile or eyes. The woman didn’t need it. She needed reassurance that everything could, and would, return to normal. Maybe with reassurance they would calm down and do their job, too. In that case, she would give it to them. It was what she did best after all, what she’d been taught to do as a tamassran.

“That… is more comforting than you might imagine.” A calm, however faint, settled over the elder as she spoke and Asala nodded, at long last taking back her hand. The cleric wasn’t going to accept the offer but she’d been able to give the woman something else instead and perhaps that something was worth more to the elder. If Asala had read her correctly then it did mean more than having the physical pain eased. The priest heaved a tired sigh. “I supposed it is out of our hands now. We shall all see what the Maker plans in the days to come.”

“The Inquisition will do its utmost to close the Breach and restore order,” Asala vowed as she stood up. “It is all we’re trying to do.” She gave a small nod to Cassandra who acknowledged the gesture with one of her own; they were done here. There was nothing more that could be done. There was one thing she was grateful for to the Revered Mother however and that was the calm that had been allowed to claim more of her mind during their conversation. What Asala had done was familiar and it comforted her as much as it did the cleric. The fact that she had almost lost control remained unresolved though, and it scared her more than she cared to think about.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Maraas-ataash ataashi-vashedan – unglorified dragon excrement (basically, what's left if you remove the glory/awe or respect inspiring element from something that is nothing but respected usually. Like shitting on and then BURNING a flag, or something.)  
> Asit kost say sataa. Maraas shokra. Anaan esaam Qun. – Be at peace with the world. There’s nothing to struggle against. Victory is in the Qun.  
> Asit tal-eb. - It is to be./The way things are meant to be.
> 
> About the cakes: You must forgive Asala. She hasn't lived long enough in Thedas to appreciate cakes and especially FRILLY cakes.  
> Here's a picture of Asala's memory of when Kaariss, Katoh and she visited Val Royeaux: http://jinsei.deviantart.com/art/DAI-Valo-Kas-visiting-Val-Royeaux-581735798


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> With three unexpected invitations, leaving Val Royeaux has been postponed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry about the delay :/

“Yours, Vivienne de Fer, Enchanter to the Imperial Court…” Asala frowned faintly at the flourishing script written on the fine paper she’d been offered by the messenger moments ago.

“That is the only official position for a mage within the Orelsian court,” Cassandra explained beside her, Asala nodded silently. She’d have to go see what this was about, didn’t she?

“I’m assuming this is not the same people as the mage rebellion?”

“That would be correct,” the warrior agreed. The salon was to be held at a chateau on the far outskirts of Val Royeaux, Cassandra continued as the location given told Asala nothing on its own. Once pointed out on a map, she found out that she’d passed the places once or twice with the Valo-Kas so she wouldn’t be too lost. It would take some hours to ride out there if she kept a pace that wasn’t too strenuous for the horse or her, something that’d be necessary because… well… The date provided did not leave enough room to return to Haven and come back.

“Would this…” she cast a quick glance down at her clothes. They’d received a good clean before they left Haven and were still serviceable, just… completely Qunari. She turned her attention back onto the Seeker. “This is all right, isn’t it? I mean, there’s no time for much else…” Over her short years here, she’d come to understand that humans, especially Orlesians, changed clothes for more reasons than them being dirty or in need of repair. The Valo-Kas didn’t hold too much to that and Asala had had only a few changes because “it was the easier way to travel”. To be sure, it _was_ but it wasn’t the complete truth just like many other things she’d told her kith. She had fewer changes still now with the Inquisition, at least clothes that’d fit her comfortably as well as be serviceable, but she would try to have it appear more a matter of consequence due to recent happenings rather than a choice. At least around all these Thedosians she didn’t have to watch herself and her words as much as with her kith. Here, she could say that it simply was because of her being Qunari… or Vashoth.

Cassandra frowned. “It’ll have to be. We don’t have time to spend on niceties.”

 _Ever the pragmatic one,_ Asala thought with an amused smile. Cassandra, for the most part, would have fit right in with the kith.

“Ruffles would disagree but not even I, and if we were in Kirkwall at that, would be able to work miracles on such a short time frame,” Varric noted then gave Asala a grin. “Not with your stature, Herald.” Asala reciprocated with a smile. It was agreed upon that trying to find something within the city that could be altered, at this point in the afternoon, was a lost cause. Especially when they still needed to find Asala a horse to ride and none of them knew where to look for the former to begin with. Getting her horse, from across the Waking Sea, was also a less than recommended venture. Worst case scenario, Varric told her, they’d find a carriage and she’d be fashionably late! She’d be just in tune with the nobles like that. Asala had shaken her head at him although amusement danced in her eyes.

“If I might have a moment of your time?” They’d just entered the avenue connecting the market to the bridge when someone spoke behind them. At this point, Asala felt, it was a 50-50 chance of it being anything positive. Upon turning around, she beheld the older elf. The woman certainly wasn’t what she’d expected to see.

“Grand Enchanter Fiona?” Cassandra’s words both explained a few things and brought forth more questions, something Solas’s words put into focus.

“Leader of the mage rebellion. Is it not dangerous for you to be here?”

 _No more dangerous than being at the Conclave proved to be, a place where she_ should _have been,_ Asala reproached silently as the female mage nodded at the other elf. It had been mentioned that both the leaders of the templars and the mage rebellion hadn’t been present at the grand meeting held by the Divine. Auspicious for them to be sure but, even knowing how the Conclave ended, Asala couldn’t agree with the evasive action.

“That is true but I heard of this gathering, and I wanted to see the fabled Herald of Andraste with my own eyes.”

“Why come here when you chose not to attend the Conclave?” Asala demanded as she stared down the older woman. The Grand Enchanter turned to meet the hard gaze head on with calm but it lacked the same scorn as the Lord Seeker had had.

“I sent negotiators in my stead, in case it was a trap. As you’ve no doubt concluded, the Lord Seeker did the same,” the woman replied but it if it was meant to soothe, it didn’t do much for the Qunari. A second passed during which no one said anything before Fiona finally let a low but heavy sigh slip. “I won’t pretend I’m not glad to live. I lost many dear friends that day.” She spoke without fanfare but there was a hint of remorse to her words. It died with her next words however. “It disgusts me to think the templars will get away with it. I’m hoping you won’t let them.”

Golden eyes hardened further as they met pale, near grey, green ones. “I’m not here to listen to empty accusations,” Asala replied snappishly. She’d heard enough of those for one day. The Grand Enchanter’s eyes narrowed but only a tiny degree.

“You must agree that Lucius hardly seems broken up over his losses. Indeed, if he’s concerned about them at all,” the elf pointed out as she tilted her head slightly to the side. “You heard him, no? You think he wouldn’t happily kill the Divine to turn people against us?” She spoke calmly, with only traces of disgust, and while she made a small point, a very small one, Asala didn’t agree. The mages had so far proven themselves as little as the templars had. And pointing fingers? Passing the blame around? Useless actions that only inflamed the wound further when they needed to disinfect it. That analogy, however, would do little for the Southerners. Compared to the Qunari, they were far behind in sanitation and healthcare.

“If that was all you had to give…” Asala said with barely held back irritation and a curt snap of her hand before turning away. The Grand Enchanter sounded as if it was a done deal, as if, of course, it was the templars. She sounded just as sure about being right as the Lord Seeker did, she just spoke with less arrogance and that had made Asala think she might hold a lick more sense in her. _Stupid,_ Asala reproached herself, _so utterly stupid to be blinded by so little._

“There is.” The Grand Enchanter’s words halted Asala’s steps but it was with reluctance that she turned back around to face the mage. She sincerely didn’t think this was going to go anywhere but she’d at the very least listen. So many right now were unwilling to do that. “If it’s help with the Breach you seek, perhaps you should look among your fellow mages.”

Asala’s brows dipped into a frown instantaneously and from the minute changes in Fiona’s expression, she assumed it wasn’t the reaction the Grand Enchanter had hoped for. Well, too bad. “Fellow mages?” she almost snorted the words. “We have nothing in common,” she stated pointedly. “You have flagrantly disregarded your duty and thrown your magic about dangerously.” She stalked closer with each word until only a step separated them, making the difference in height extremely obvious as the elf had to tilt her head to meet Asala’s gaze. She wasn’t the tallest of her people but tall enough among the Southerners to make a point by presence alone. To the Grand Enchanter’s credit, the woman didn’t back up but there was a guard present in her eyes, a readiness for whatever could be thrown her way. “You shouldn’t have allowed the rebels to slip into the hills surrounding Redcliffe, they shouldn’t even have gotten as far as the Crossroads,” Asala bit out as she continued her admonishing. “They were _your_ responsibility as _you_ took them out of a world they were used to and into one they hardly knew anything about. If you wish to be an authority unto yourselves, then you failed right from the start because of the mess the Inquisition had to clean up in the Hinterlands. And before you say anything, if you saw any part of the gathering in the market, you should already know you’re not the only one who’s blind to their failure.”

Not once had the elf cowered or drawn back. Asala was willing to credit her gumption and calm to her age and time among the Grey Wardens. En route to the Conclave, her kith had picked up a few choice pieces of information to be able to perform their job better and an overview of the history of the mage rebellion’s leader had seemed appropriate. It had also, due to its strange twists and turns, been more readily available than information on the Templar Order. Then again, maybe the woman had left all her sense behind with the Wardens or in the circle when she left it behind. Or maybe magic had rotted her brain in her older age. If she didn’t see the need to keep her own people in line, then she was as useless as the Lord Seeker. Magic could be useful, could be turned to a purpose if handled with care, but overstep your boundaries or let fools run around unchecked and you got shit like the Breach.

The Grand Enchanter gave a cautious nod at Asala’s scathing criticism. “There was a lot of fear and rogue templars roaming the hills, making the situation far worse than anyone thought it could be,” Fiona agreed but continued before Asala could get an annoyed word in about how that was irrelevant and just another excuse. “However, we are not above learning from our mistakes. Consider this an invitation to Redcliffe,” she said and took a deliberate step back to offer her hand. It wasn’t so much a request for a handshake as a gesture of invitation. “Come. Meet with the mages and hear what we can offer you. An alliance could help us both after all.” The Grand Enchanter gave them a smile. “I hope to see you there. Au revoir, my lady Herald.”

Asala shook her head unhappily as the Grand Enchanter left and turned to find the rest of her companions regarding her. Ugh. It was becoming increasingly difficult to keep serenity foremost in her mind the more involved with the Inquisition she got it would appear. It made her want to sigh.

“You do not consider the mages a viable option,” Solas noted as he studied her carefully. He’d come to know and understand her far too well for her liking over the past few weeks, what with being her unofficial tutor in magic and the Land of the Dead, or Beyond as he mostly called it. She was beginning to wonder at the prudence of such a decision now. Maybe she ought to be a bit more guarded. He was a sharp man who’d used his years well. For now she just shook her head.

“They’ve been using their powers wrong. Would you argue that? Were not the rebels the Grand Enchanter’s responsibility?” She allowed her frustration with the situation to show on her face. _That_ was no secret to anyone any longer. “While the deserters from the Templar Order, and the Order itself, hasn’t been acting any better, I can’t say I’m too keen on pouring _more_ magic into this thing.” She raised her marked hand at the end of her sentence and cast a sidelong frown at it. “It may be stable now but I’m not interested in testing just how long that would last if we suddenly start empower it or anything else around it.” She tried not to swallow too hard as her eyes remained on the silent mark that was only a faint line of glowing green, like a scar filled with dragon’s venom set to boil. Whenever it expanded, something she only thought possible when dealing with rifts!, it sent tiny, tingling waves of power to dance up her arm. It raised the hairs on her limbs every time and made the fear of it swallowing her whole rear its ugly head. Solas had said it wouldn’t, that it was stable now even when she opened it up to suck the power out of the rifts, but still!

“It _is_ stable.” Asala’s eyes crawled back onto the elf who regarded her with alert eyes. Had he read her that easily or had she just not guarded her expression this time? She didn’t like either possibility but gave a slow nod. She _did_ trust his abilities in reading the Beyond and its powers, and if what scarred her hand was anything then it was the raw power from the Land of the Dead. She may not like the mark but she’d trust him on this. Asala took a deep breath and let it out slowly, opening eyes she’d closed momentarily.

“I’d like to see about meeting the Order again before anything else.” _Some_ in it had to still have their senses intact enough to aid them.

Solas nodded. “Fair enough—”

A whistling sound shooting past them had Cassandra jump for her sword and Asala, unable to stop herself, actually throw up a barrier. Through the swimming, transparent energies she could see the arrow that had embedded itself into a nearby cart. Out of the corner of her eye she saw Varric smooth over an ear that the projectile probably had flown a bit too close to for comfort. When no further arrows came, the dwarf moved closer and pulled the offending object from the wood. Turning it around, he handed it over to Asala. “Seems like an awfully dangerous way to deliver a message,” the man joked and Asala could only frown. The cart _was_ the only wooden object around, yes, but that had been darn close.

Reading the message, Asala frowned and then read it again before handing it over to Cassandra. The seeker, probably to speed things up, read it out loud. “I’ve heard of the Friends of Red Jenny,” Varric confessed at end of the short reading. “Never had to deal with them personally though.” Asala cast an eye at Cassandra who frowned.

“There’s no telling how useful, if at all, this could be.”

“You might be surprised, Seeker,” Varric pointed out and the woman grunted in reply.

“What are they?” Asala asked the dwarf.

“An organisation—”

“To put it lightly,” Cassandra interrupted the dwarf but he ignored it.

“—that spans the nations but operate locally, as I’ve understood it. They might know things Nightingale doesn’t.” Asala nodded absently at Varric’s advice as she regarded the letter she’d retrieved. Did they have time to investigate this?

In the end they went on a short search for the clues left behind. It proved a bit of a hassle but not too difficult. Cassandra didn’t approve of Asala going into the busy café down the street and crawl around on the floor for something so ambiguous as “red things”, however, so Varric volunteered to go find whatever was hidden there. It didn’t take too long before they had a somewhat clearer picture of what was going on as well as a time and place. Once they did have that on hand, Cassandra relented that it may be worth looking into before it became a bigger problem. Before that, though, there was the salon to see to. While Cassandra went off to find an adequately sized horse and Varric gave Asala a few pointers about nobles. He didn’t profess to know Orlesian nobility fantastically but he knew about the upper class in the Marcher states and was sure it’d help some. The Valo-Kas had worked for nobles in the past but Asala hadn’t spent much time up close and personal with them, so she was grateful for any information. Once Cassandra came back a near hour later, Asala set off.

It took a few hours but the roads were well-kept, affording the use of a comfortable pace without making bad time. Once she arrived, the horse was taken from her by stable hands and she was shown to the main entrance. Cassandra had, right before she set off, voiced her reluctance to allow Asala to travel alone even if the invitation had only been for the Herald. It could prove an ill decision. Asala could see the wisdom in that but there was little to be done at that point. If something happened inside the chateau then, even if someone came with her, she’d still be alone with the problem.

“Lady Adaar of the Inquisition.”

Asala glanced over at the announcer as she ascended the last step up into the twilit entrance hall before letting her eyes roam the grand chamber. Long draperies, beeswax candles in clusters, shaped stone and gilt details everywhere. There were also a lot of people here. Then again, she’d been invited for, they all assumed, some purpose so she wouldn’t have to go hunt down the Court Enchanter, would she? She hoped not. With all these masks and similar garments, she was bound to start mixing them all up soon. She’d always gone on little facial details to remember everyone around her and having them all masked wasn’t something she was used to.

It was rather amusing, she had to confess, to see all these people stare at her while trying their best to not be obvious about it. She had a fairly good pair of eyes in her head, it was a side effect or something she’d developed, she wasn’t sure, from having been around children and youths for years. Masks or no, they’d have to do better than that if they didn’t want her to know they stared. There was a pair in her path however, and since they didn’t try to appear as though they weren’t staring she met their gaze. The man inclined his head to her.

“What a pleasure to meet you, my lady. Seeing the same faces at every event becomes so tiresome.” He had a very mild voice, which, along with his uncovered mouth and jaw, made her take a guess at his overall features and age. One thing she would never understand, she feared, was their strange, constricting clothing. The woman’s collar in particular…

 _Maybe the faces wouldn’t look the same if you all took off your masks once in a while_ , she countered somewhat snarkily but didn’t say. Instead she gave the man a smile and small nod. “It’s a pleasure to be here.” Of course it was… She didn’t wish to tarry with the pair over long but at times, especially with the excited woman, it was difficult to get a word in edgewise. It reminded her of her younger charges, something that managed to soften her mental tone.

“I have heard the most curious tales of you! I cannot imagine half of them are true,” the noblewoman gushed excitedly, eyes filled with a keen light that was visible despite the mask.

“Some of those story tellers may have gotten carried away,” Asala warned as she worried what the woman might have heard.

“But only for the best effect!” was the happy answer and Asala once again likened her to her charges, but in a not as endearing light anymore. Like when she and the other tamassrans were left to answer a billion questions that something in everyday life or a careless comment by another adult had conceived. Especially the latter. People had to be careful what they said to children; they believed far too much and far too easily. “The Inquisition is a ripe subject for wild tales.” Asala nodded at the other woman’s words. That, indeed, it was, she miserably agreed.

“The Inquisition? What a load of pig shit!”

It wasn’t only Asala and the two nobles in front of her who turned towards the voice. The speaker was coming down the stairs with a confident swagger, a certain arrogance in his step that, if Asala wasn’t mistaken, was that of someone trying to look bigger than they truly were. She’d espied it a fair number of times after coming here. As she understood it, it came from an uncertainty about your position in life and whether or not you could lose it or gain a better one. At least that was her best guess. So often there was no certainty in the south.

“Washed-up sisters can crazed seekers?” he snorted as he reached the floor, rounding the stairs to walk towards Asala. “No one can take them seriously,” he sneered, as though he wanted her to have a reaction. At least one bigger than her careful regard of him. His eyes narrowing in what she could only assume was a frown was the only clue to being correct in the least. The only reason she could see it was because he was now close enough but then he continued past her and the two nobles only to turn around with a dramatic flourish. Then again, maybe that was just how they did it at noble gatherings in Orlais. The Valo-Kas had never been present at one during her time with them, although they had stood around as visible muscles at such events once or twice, Taarlok had told her.

“Everyone knows it’s just an excuse for a bunch of political outcasts to grab power.”

Asala considered tiredly shaking her head at the man but refrained. “I’m not sure with whom you’ve spoken but we’re only trying to restore some peace and mend the sky.” She’d almost said order but at the last moment omitted it. She wasn’t sure how inflamed this topic was here and didn’t wish to be the reason it got worse. As she’d come to understand, as soon as a Qunari, whether they were Tal-Vashoth, Vashoth or not, mentioned “order”, everyone around them went into high alert. Especially after the mess at the Free Marches city of Kirkwall. She’d never thought Ariqun and Arigena would ever leave Par Vollen but for the aftermath of that matter, they had.

The man across from her snorted, his whole stance telling her how much her words mattered or changed his opinion; not one iota. She’d expected as much though. “Of course. Restoring peace… with an army at your beck and call.”

Asala frowned in annoyance. “I do not have an army at my beck and call. I’m not the commander of the Inquisition after all. I…” She trailed off quickly and not only because he didn’t seem to be interested in her rebuttal but because what was she for the Inquisition, indeed? What did it mean being a Herald, much less a Herald of Andraste? She certainly didn’t know. At the very least, it seemed to imply she was some sort of banner or… figurehead for the whole institution. People did seem to turn to her for answers, when to offer aid and… ugh, when to accuse. To be fair, she _had_ been the only one to get out of the Temple of Sacred Ashes alive even if she couldn’t remember how.

“We know what your 'Inquisition' truly is,” he challenged her as he walked closer but stopping short of her personal space. She guessed that he didn’t dare come much closer but wasn’t sure if it was because of her magic or not. He could stand on the far side of the room and she’d still be just as dangerous to him in that case. “If you were a woman of honour, you’d step outside and answer to the charges.”

“What charges?” Asala blinked at him confusedly. He hadn’t stated any, just hinted at a lot of things. Had no one ever taught him to be forthright? Her eyes snapped to his shoulder as he reached up and grasped the hilt of the sword fastened across his back. Cassandra had said she was allowed to defend herself if it became inevitable and she was the Herald of Andraste but…

A crackle and snap of ice not deep enough to truly hold you when you step on it screeched through the air around them and a thin layer of frost descended upon the man. Asala’s hands immediately spasmed into fists as she took a step back. No, she hadn’t caused that. She was sure. She had more control—

“My dear marquis, how unkind of you to use such language in my house.” Asala blinked before shooting her gaze up to the top of the opposite stair where the voice emanated from. The woman, while ostentatiously dressed, had a certain elegance and freedom about her garments as well as an authoritative posture and assurance in her step. Asala stared at her, hands relaxing a bit, as she immediately recognised the presence the human was robed in; she would’ve been a tamassran, for sure. If not for the magic, of course. “…and to my guests,” the woman finished with a faint shake of her head as she lowered a hand that had been surrounded by a faint magical aura moments ago. As she came down to the gathering’s level and rounded the stairs, she fixed her eyes upon the frozen man’s back. “You know such rudeness is… intolerable,” she admonished gently, managing to sound both soft of word as well as slightly playful, as though she didn’t truly mean it, and come off dangerously serious at the same time.

“A-ah, Madame Vivienne, I humbly beg your pardon!” He stumbled over his words and Asala could understand why. Personally she felt a bit more at ease now, almost at home, but a part of her still wondered how well magic could mix with the kind of authority she identified as belonging to the re-educators, Rasaan or Ariqun.

“You should.” The short, dismissive sentence with its hinted disapproval was like a whip or a bucket of ice cold water being dumped over you. You didn’t need to hear any harsh words or have a voice raised to know you were in trouble, _deep_ trouble. The Court Enchanter, for there was no doubt about it, finally reached them and turned to face the man. She was tall in her own right but her heels, while not high, still gave her that little extra boost to make her his equal and all the more intimidating for it. “Whatever am I going to do with you, my dear?” The shaking of her head was audible in her voice even if she didn’t perform the motion. The nobleman didn’t answer her but beyond the restricting ice prison enveloping him, his Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed harshly. The only reason he could even do that much was because the action was so harsh and the ice trap wasn’t of the calibre that one used on the field of battle. The woman turned around to face Asala and she could tell the human was judging the situation, gathering information from even the tiniest movement that Asala made. She hadn’t felt this scrutinised in… well, a long time. The last time she remembered was when first joining her kith and she’d been subjected to Shokrakar’s intense eyes. The last time before that had been… was it four years before now? Closer to five maybe? It’d been the last time she’d been in the presence of another tamassran, one who was educated in adults that is. Blood and damnation, she’d just barely gotten out of there without revealing her magic, or at least that’s what it felt like. After that, she’d never let anyone see if she was strained or stressed. If they thought she’d needed relaxation and ordered her there, she would’ve been found out for sure. She’d never relaxed completely in anyone presence since she came fully into her powers for fear of losing control of them. She never had, of course, but… but still! You never knew, especially not with magic. Solas, even if he didn’t know about it, had tried to instil her with the knowledge that she’d always know how her magic worked, when it was getting overwhelmed or failing. She still hadn’t come to terms with his teachings, wasn’t sure if she ever would.

“My lady, you’re the wounded party in this unfortunate affair.” The Court Enchanter’s words caused Asala’s eyes to snap over to the frozen man momentarily to pull her out of herself. The woman had a presence that reminded her of Cassandra; sure, authoritative and direct. “What would you have me do with this foolish, foolish man?” Asala blinked once at the woman. Had she just…? She had, hadn’t she?

“You mean to tell me that I’m within my rights to demand retribution?” She had to confirm because it just sounded… up the walls. It just… It couldn’t be that, surely!

“Yes, I do mean just that,” the woman replied with a small nod.

Asala felt a tiny chill race down her spine. She could have this man’s head? He was arrogant, as far as she could tell nearly useless when it came to doing anything with his position beside use it incorrectly and liable to be trouble later on… If she asked for his death, Asala was sure the Court Enchanter probably wouldn’t even blink. She had that air about her, it was why she made Asala think of the re-educators, Rasaan and Ariqun. Qunari in general, to be honest. You did as was needed.

She had to take a mental step back. This place was… madness. Asala shook her head both at the situation and in reply to the Court Enchanter. If her actions, to everyone else, spoke for the whole Inquisition, she wouldn’t, couldn’t, act rashly. “I believe,” _or hope,_ she added mentally, “that this has given the marquis something to think about. I do not require any retribution personally and the Inquisition isn’t here for anyone’s personal issues.” Speaking in such an overly clear manner allowed her to clear her head as well. She’d found the Court Enchanter, that was all she was here for. She’d hear the woman out and then get out of this madhouse as fast as she could.

The Court Enchanter gave a curt nod before turning back to the man. “By the grace of Andraste, you have your life, my dear. Do be more careful with it,” she finished with a snap of her fingers as the spell imprisoning him released. He staggered back in a short coughing fit, most likely unused to being so cold or surrounded by intense magic, as the mage turned once again to confront Asala. The change in voice and demeanour was shockingly instantaneous. “I’m delighted you could attend this little gathering,” the woman said with a polite smile as the marquis slunk towards the exit behind her. “I’ve so wanted to meet you.” The Court Enchanter quickly steered them towards a quieter hallway away from the crowd as she spoke. Introductions were followed by a short note about the marquis. Apparently he’d get something very similar to re-education, as Asala understood it, especially if he now did go off to join the fight in other parts of the empire. It didn’t take long before the Court Enchanter got into why Asala had received the invitation, something she appreciated. She guessed that there was a bit more to the matter, for it always was with mainland Thedosians, but Vivienne’s strong interest to restore order, as well as her disgust at the conduct of the rebel mages, did make the choice very easy for Asala. She assumed magic probably appeared like a very useful tool to this woman, rather than a defining factor of her person and place in the world, due to how casually she’d used it when handling the marquis. While that was something to look out for so did Vivienne seem to have a lot of qualities that would be useful, not to mention appreciated, right about now.

“The Inquisition will be happy to have you, Lady Vivienne.”

The other woman smiled at Asala. “Great things are beginning, my dear. I can promise you that.” Personally, Asala would prefer if they were ending soon. Very soon.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Why yes, Josephine WOULD disprove of your travelling rags for an ORELSIAN SALON where members of COURT attended. Maker, Herald! I also wanted to apply a logical time frame for recruting vivienne and Sera.  
> Very interesting, as a female npc, you seem to get a more polite announcement/conversation at Bastien's residence. Master vs Lady Adaar and "a pleasure, ser" vs "what a pleasure to meet you, my lady".


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Enter Red Jenny! Well... kind of. And arrows. Mustn't forget arrows. Or cream-- I mean Krem!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That was quick. I hope I don't have a bunch of speed typos.

Vivienne, naturally, offered Asala to stay the night at the chateau and only after examining the probability of getting any decent sleep once back did the Qunari accept. She’d have preferred it if that wasn’t the case though. While travelling back to Val Royeaux it did hit her that seeing how the meeting the Friends of Red Jenny had supplied them with was the day after the salon, maybe there were going to be nobles present that had attended. It was anybody’s guess but it was something to look out for. Once she got back and filled in the others, in particularly Cassandra, about the happenings the evening before, it simmered down to a waiting game for the right time. When evening finally came, they journeyed to the outskirts of the capital. It didn’t take long to locate the door in question.

A secluded courtyard lay ahead and it was quiet, too quiet really. It soon became apparent why as they snuck up on some guards who, rather loudly, announced that they knew exactly who Asala was. They seemed to be in the right place, all right. It didn’t prove too difficult to dispatch the men but there was another problem…

“There’s nothing here,” Asala noted quietly, keeping her voice low in case there were any others around who’d been roused by the ruckus. To take an enemy off-guard, only to be taken off-guard yourself by his reinforcement, was embarrassing.

“So, deeper into the lion’s den?” Varric inquired with a lopsided grin while throwing a nod at another door. Cassandra made a disgusted noise at the blatant pun on the heraldry of royal house of Orlais but the dwarf’s mirth didn’t subside. Asala found it a bit of a stretch… or at least hoped it was and that they weren’t dealing with the ruler of Orlais.

 _Maybe he’s just used to flourishing in adversity_ , Asala mused as she gave the dwarf a silent nod and they crept forward. The door was halfway open when a warning tingle sped up her arm, proclaiming the advent of magic as imminent. It saved her getting singed from the ball of fire that impacted with the stone of the doorpost as she threw herself half a step back and right into Cassandra’s arms. Ducking and taking a leap forward helped her avoid the second volley and get into the next courtyard. They sincerely couldn’t fight an enemy if they were locked into a choke point.

“Herald of Andraste! How much did you expend to discover me?” Asala frowned as she slowly regained her proper height because, apparently, the man couldn’t throw magic at her and talk at the same time… Or maybe it was the posing and flourishing that he felt was more important to not interrupt. What… an odd man. He hadn’t stopped talking either, not even as Cassandra, Varric and Solas slipped through the charred doorway.

“I… no?” For some reason it was almost sad how little it’d cost them. “Should it? Who are you?”

“You don’t fool me!” He didn’t leave any room for Asala to ask any further questions. If she wasn’t so perplexed by the man, she might have found it all amusing. In a tiresome sort of way, mind you. “I’m too important for this to be an accident! My efforts will survive in victories against you elsewhere!”

This time, for a nice change, Asala would later remember it as, they _both_ got interrupted as the sound of a door slamming open nearby rang through the courtyard. It was followed by the pained shout of a man who shortly after keeled over to… reveal a petite blonde. With a bow and a nocked arrow.

“Just say 'what'!” the girl, for she didn’t look that old, challenged as everyone present turned towards her. At least the arrow wasn’t pointed at them but at the flashy man.

“No, wait—!”

“What is the—?”

Asala’s words resounded through the air at the same time as the man’s, followed by the twang of a bowstring and hiss of an arrow cleaving the air. Asala winced at the thud and crunch as the arrow went through mask, flesh and bones. He certainly didn’t need her wincing at his toppling over backwards and hitting the stone hard though. He was probably dead before his skull cracked against the flagstones.

“Ew!”

Asala wasn’t the only one who turned their eyes back onto the very young woman, an elf, Asala could tell as she strode closer to the downed man. Cassandra had yet to sheathe her sword because the ring of metal hadn’t sounded but somehow Asala doubted weapons were going to be necessary right now.

“Squishy one, but you heard me, right?” the girl said with a short laugh. “Just say 'what'. Huh. Rich tits always try for more than they deserve,” she said with a shake of her head as she kneeled down and grasped the arrow’s shaft, giving it a harsh pull to dislodge it. “Blah, blah, blah! Obey me! Arrow in my face!” she quoted in a funny voice despite that the words hadn’t been said. The arrow finally came loose. “So, you followed the notes well enough.” She grimaced at the gore still attached to the arrowhead and wiped it on the dead man’s expensive garb before standing up. “Glad to see you’re…” The elf trailed off as she stared. For a second Asala wondered if it was because of her very Qunari clothes, something she still refused to shed for any human-made outfit. She’d tried something on once but it just didn’t… feel right. Too constricting, too many seams and too many layers. It didn’t take long to realise the girl was staring at her face and… well, everything else.

“You’re well fit!” It came out almost as a sigh and it clicked. The tone, more than anything, did it. The girl liked what she saw. As in, she found it appealing. Attraction was one of the first things Asala had learnt to notice when coming to the mainland, mostly because it was so different from at home but she still didn’t catch on to it immediately. Qunari did have things they liked, too, of course, but attraction to people… it wasn’t really dealt with the same way. Here in the south it was practically encouraged but at the same time so many rules, spoken and not, were applied to it. It was confusing to try and navigate and Asala was happy she hadn’t been forced to do it yet, at least not with the mainland races. For now, she gave the girl a gentle smile, causing the elf to cough in embarrassment. “H-heard about your kind.” She cast her eyes to the side for a heartbeat before gathering herself remarkably quick. “Seeing is different though… I mean, it’s all good, innit?” She recovered quickly, too, Asala noticed with barely held back amusement. “The important thing is; you glow?”

“I… glow?” It hit Asala just as it escaped her mouth what the girl probably meant.

“You’re the Herald thingy,” she added and while not very elaborate, it did get the point across.

“Yes, I’ve been called as much.” Asala considered asking about why the elf had killed the boasting noble but judging by how the girl had acted and what she’d said so far, Asala couldn’t imagine getting much out of her in that arena. When in doubt, start simple. “Who are you?”

“Name’s Sera. This is cover,” she pointed at a few boxes stacked nearby as though she was introducing them, too. “Get round it,” the elf added with a cheeky grin. Yes, Asala could see why she was reminded of her charges even more clearly now. “For the reinforcement, yeah?” was the reply when Asala raised a brow at the addendum. “Don’t worry,” Sera snickered as she nocked another arrow, “someone tipped me their equipment shed.” A wink was thrown Asala’s way. “They’ve got no breeches!”

Asala wasn’t sure what she would’ve said in response to that and didn’t have to think about it as a string of Orlesian rang through the far end of the courtyard. Everyone, except for Sera, was suddenly on high alert and readying weapons once again because suddenly they weren’t alone in the enclosed area and… Asala blinked before catching herself and throwing up a barrier. The girl hadn’t lied or exaggerated. The guards that came rushing in didn’t wear anything but their smallclothes on their lower half.

“Why didn’t you take their weapons?” Asala yelled as the din of fighting rose once more around them. Beside her, Varric gave a shake of his head but one corner of his mouth was drawn a bit higher than the other. She wasn’t sure if he was amused or admired the creativity.

“Because no breeches!” the girl laughed merrily as her bowstring sang. Asala couldn’t fault her efficiency or skill but, dear Prophet, she was a wild child. Who raised her? Wolves? In the end it didn’t matter much. The guards were easily dispatched. Asala was a bit remorseful about having to kill them all. It was far too many deaths for one evening, especially when none were necessary. It was an inordinate waste of lives and resources. She shook her head as she walked over to the wild card.

“Friends really came through with that tip,” the girl chuckled to herself. “No breeches!” She did turn around though when Asala came closer. “So! Herald of Andraste… You’re a strange one.” Asala blinked at her. _She_ was the strange one? Well, all things considered… “I’d like to join.”

“You’d like to join the Inquisition?” Asala repeated slowly as she regarded the quirky girl. To say that it’d be the weirdest acquisition to date was probably a bit of an understatement. She didn’t even need to turn around and see Cassandra’s face to guess at her reaction and subsequent thoughts on the matter. She was with the seeker on that part. Then again, they’d been advised to come here by someone and now this girl was here… “Did you send the note that led us here?” Asala asked as she dug out the message from the arrow, feeling she was being generous with the verb but the night wasn’t getting any younger.

“What? Oh, yeah, that! Yeah, that was me. Or, no, wait, it’s more like this, yeah? I sent you a note to look for hidden stuff by my friends, the Friends of Red Jenny. That’s me, see? Well, I’m one.” She continued to list different people and cities as Asala regarded her silently. She still wasn’t sure how good accepting this girl’s help could be but… Varric had said it; they might know things that Leliana didn’t. It was localised information if nothing else and that could draw up a bigger picture if handled correctly, couldn't it? Asala would’ve found it amusing that she was almost building up something akin to the Ben-Hassrath, but on a smaller scale, if the idea wasn’t so ludicrous. She took a breath and let it out slowly as she focused on Sera again. “It’s just a name, yeah?” the girl was saying with a shrug. A name, sure, just a name. “So here, in your face, I’m Sera. 'The Friends of Red Jenny' are sort of out there. I used them to help you. Plus arrows.”

It very quickly became apparent that depending on what you said, the girl went on the offensive and it tugged at something inside Asala. No, maybe it wasn’t the smartest thing to accept the help of this girl and yes, it may have a few positive notes attached but on the larger scale? Probably not. However… she reminded Asala a bit too much of the children that sometimes came over from Seheron and elsewhere; those who’d had it rough. Despite Sera obviously being no child and most certainly old enough to have been assigned a role in the past few years if they had been under the Qun, there was still something that made Asala unwilling to walk away. Or perhaps it was unable, she wasn’t sure. The girl’s actions and words made Asala want to reach out and touch her but she doubted Sera would understand why or appreciate it if she did. “How old are you?”

“Wot? Uh, nineteen. What does that matter?”

Asala shook her head. “No, it doesn’t.” She wasn’t one of the tamassran for adults but Sera was right on the border and someone had certainly failed to give… whatever it was she’d needed years ago. Maybe it was a stupid move but she couldn’t walk away from this. She felt even less able to ignore this than anything else that the Inquisition may need her to do. Besides, didn’t they have enough people against them and not enough working with them? “All right. Let’s try this,” she confirmed with a nod. Sera had a delayed reaction of half a second but she made up for it in enthusiasm. Maybe she’d expected it to be more difficult.

“Yes! Get in good before you’re too big to like.” It sounded almost like “that’ll teach you” but the girl looked happy enough.

“We’re headed back to Haven tomorrow morning. Shall we wait for you?”

“Nah, got some stuff to tie up first,” Sera said with a disinterested wave of her hand. “See you at Haven, Herald! This will be grand.”

Sometimes Asala wondered if she should just give up on telling people her name and just let them to call her Herald. She didn’t like it but it was familiar in a sense as it was more a title than anything and she was used to that. It’d taken her months to get used to the name she’d thought up during the week at sea even if she felt it fit perfectly. Asala Adaar; a soul weapon, because magic wasn’t something that came from the body. So maybe it was more correctly translated as a weapon reliant upon a soul. It didn’t matter to the humans though as most of the time they didn’t think too deeply on the why of a name. But a name should never be given without reason. To her kith, well, the family name had been an interesting touch by her parents, they’d said, especially since they hadn’t been mercenaries according to Asala’s tale. She’d live and die by that tale.

****************

The journey back to Haven was uneventful, something Asala was grateful for after the very eventful and tiring days in Val Royeaux. Once they arrived, Cassandra and Asala headed for the chantry to speak to the other leaders of the Inquisition at the warrior’s behest. With a few, quick inquiries as they went, it appeared all three of them were already inside, minimising the running around. And, indeed, as soon as the two entered the large building, they were met by Josephine, Leliana and Cullen.

“It’s good you’ve returned. We heard of your encounter.” Josephine’s accent softened the trace of worry but Asala couldn’t help but wonder _which_ of the many encounters they’d heard of. The one with the Chantry clergy and templars seemed almost too obvious a choice now.

“You heard?”

“My agents in the city sent word ahead, of course,” Leliana answered Cassandra’s question as she and Cullen came up beside them, completing the group. It felt almost informal, meeting out in the main hall of the chantry when their usual chamber wasn’t too far away. It made Asala wonder if there was something more coming. Then again, maybe she was just getting paranoid.

“It’s a shame the templars have abandoned their senses as well as the capital.”

Asala nodded in agreement to Cullen’s remark. “I’m willing to give them a second chance to see if they’ve found it on the way to… wherever they went,” she finished with a shake of her head. The commander’s lips curled amusedly as he gave her an approving nod. Of all the leading members of the Inquisition, he alone was interested in pursuing the Order so it was probably a welcome thing to have another person agree with him. It didn’t make the decision of what to do, and how, any easier though. If neither the templars nor the mages showed a lick of sense or reason, was the Inquisition better off with or without of them? It was a matter worth considering as a worst case scenario. It was always better to have a plan for such a situation after all. To not have anything come as a surprise, especially the Court Enchanter, a surprise Josephine would hardly appreciate, Asala thought, she gave them a short recounting of all the encounters in Val Royeaux.

“At least we now know where the Chantry stands,” Leliana concluded and Asala could fair see the gears turning in her head.

“And we also have the opening we need to approach the templars and the mages,” Josephine added as she gestured for the group to proceed to the council chamber.

“Do we?” Cassandra sounded more doubtful than ever before. It made Asala wonder what had been going through the seeker’s mind during their return trip and the time she hadn’t been around her travelling companions. “Lord Seeker Lucius is not the man I remember.”

“True. He’s taken the Order somewhere, but to do what? My reports have been… very odd.” Leliana sounded perplexed, a feeling she apparently had encountered far too readily during the recent months and disliked the frequency as well as the sensation itself that it engendered in her. Or at least that was what Asala picked up from her tone.

“We must look into it.” At Cullen’s words on the matter caused them to once again descended into the 'mages or templars' discussion among the advisors and Asala mentally shook her head. This was getting them nowhere.

“Or mayhap you could just stop bickering and make a decision.” Asala felt herself tense as every pair of eyes turned to her. If it’d been someone else who’d spoke, tiredly annoyed tone or not, she would also have turned but it was difficult to regard yourself without a mirror. Blood and damnation, she needed some rest and time alone after all this running around chasing, mostly, idiots.

“I agree.” Asala didn’t find it a surprise that Cassandra agreed with her sentiment despite it being somewhat harshly worded. She was a woman of action. While not a stranger to patience, Cassandra knew when to push and not sit idle.

“We shouldn’t discount Redcliffe. The mages may be worth the risk.” Asala did find it interesting though that, of all people, it was the ambassador who spoke for the mages. Josephine always seemed to prefer to have a secure playing field and all risks, and their countermeasures, nicely accounted for before making her move, very much like Leliana. However, the latter also seemed more willing to take risks and be ruthless where the need arose.

“They are powerful, Ambassador, but more desperate than you realise.” And the snowball began rolling again. This time, Asala didn’t even attempt to stop it. She wondered if it could become an avalanche on its own or if it’d fall short. The members of the leading circle had proven themselves able in the short period of time they’d been in control of the Inquisition. She’d leave them to it.

It didn’t take long before the whole matter was finished, albeit still without any decisive direction to be taken. It was true, just as Cullen said; the Inquisition was too young to have that much pull on anyone, really. “We need agents in more places,” Cassandra concluded before she gave Asala a nod. “That’s something you can help with.” The Qunari inclined her head. As unfortunate as she found that bit, it appeared to be true.

“In the meantime, we should consider other options,” Josephine supplied before going for the door of the council chamber. As Cullen and Cassandra followed the ambassador, Leliana made a small gesture with her hand to the passing warrior who nodded at her. Asala regarded the spymaster as she moved closer.

“There’s one other matter…”

“Yes?”

Leliana frowned at the air between them as she continued. “Several months ago, the Grey Wardens of Ferelden vanished. I sent word to those in Orlais, but they have also disappeared. Ordinarily I wouldn’t even consider the idea they’re involved in all this, but the timing is… curious,” she confessed to what was bothering her. Asala had heard a bit about that organisation but never read anything about them in-depth.

“They fight darkspawn. Have they ever gotten involved in politics before?”

“Rarely,” Leliana confirmed with a shake of her head. “They’ve gotten trapped in politics a few times but it’s not their wont to seek it out. As you say, they fight darkspawn and that is rarely a matter for politics and yet… I feel there’s something missing.” She shook her head and finally focused solely on Asala. “The others have disregarded my suspicions, but I cannot ignore it. Two days ago, my agents in the Hinterlands heard news of a Grey Warden by the name of Blackwall. Once I have a better lead on his location, I’d appreciate some help in the matter. For now, there’s another matter. We’d sent out a scouting group to the Storm Coast in north western Ferelden due to rumours of rifts having appeared there, too. However, there’s been no word since. If it _is_ demons then that area needs immediate attention and if it isn’t… we need to know what happened to our people.”

Asala nodded. She could see the need for investigating this as soon as possible. As bad as it sounded, she prayed for it to be demons. At least they didn’t talk crap and point fingers at each other. She’d welcome their straightforward if murderous intent. You knew you were having a bad time of it when your preferences were laid out that way. “You can tell Cassandra we’ll be ready to head out as soon as she’s done in there. I’ll inform Master Tethras and Solas, although I wouldn’t blame them if they took a pass this time.” Leliana’s lips shot up in an amused smile before she gave a nod and headed for the door to the council chamber.

Once she heard the door close behind the spymaster the main hall became awfully quiet. There was usually someone in here but for once it was blessedly empty. After a few surreptitious glances about just to be sure, Asala stretched out the muscles in arms, legs and back and just took a moment to stand still and enjoy it. She didn’t linger overly long though, as there was no telling how soon the war council would be done and she’d prefer to tell the other two about the new plans well before then. It was still early afternoon and the sun was shining down on Haven if bathing everything in a faintly green-tinted light due to the Breach. Haven wasn’t the only thing getting a forest-like wash though. Just outside the doors there was a young man Asala hadn’t seen before. To be fair, while there weren’t too many people at Haven yet, it still wasn’t easy to remember every single one of them. Still, she was fairly certain he was new because his armour was of a good, sturdy make but it didn’t carry the insignia of the Inquisition, something the equipment of almost everyone else fighting for them did. He noticed her watching him almost immediately and walked over to her as she closed the huge chantry door to keep the cold out of the building.

“Excuse me, I’ve got a message for the Inquisition, but I’m having a hard time getting anyone to talk to me,” he told her with an apologetic, lopsided smile. If he was looking for someone in charge then Asala wasn’t surprised. They were nearly always busy. As far as she could tell, the few times she was in Haven and not doing anything, no one seemed to have five minutes to themselves unless it was well after the evening meal. She even wondered if Josephine wasn’t beginning to take on a slightly paler hue from sitting indoors all day in that windowless office.

“You can give me the message,” she informed him with a nod. “I’ll make sure it gets to the people in charge. For whom do you speak?”

“Cremisius Aclassi, lieutenant of the Bull’s Chargers mercenary company,” he introduced himself with a quick salute, making Asala wonder if it was just habit or if she’d, as a few other times, unconsciously managed to convey a role of authority. She’d always done it with children and youths, although it’d always been a mix between authority and protective confidant, but lately so many of the people in Haven did it, too, that she wasn’t sure if it was she or them reacting to her Herald status. And there was just something else about this young man… The more he spoke, the more she was sure of it but exactly _what_ it was eluded her at the moment. “We got word of some Tevinter mercenaries working out on the Storm Coast. My company commander, Iron Bull, offers the information free of charge. If you’d like to see what the Bull’s chargers can do for the Inquisition, meet us there and watch us work.”

Asala raised a brow. Well… no matter where you went, it seemed like mercenaries liked to give themselves odd titles and nicknames. At least if she based it on what her kith had told her of other mercenaries and companies they’d either met or heard of. “Why offer us this information?”

“Iron Bull wants to work for the Inquisition. He thinks you’re doing good work,” was the simple but honest, as far as Asala could tell, answer. If it was that easy then they sure could use some more of that.

“What’s the Bull’s Chargers like?”

The mercenary nodded, manner crisp and straightforward without coming across harsh. “We’re loyal, we’re tough and we don’t break contracts. Ask around in Val Royeaux. We’ve got references. I’m assuming you’re part of a mercenary company yourself?” he asked with a raised brow.

“Well…” Suddenly Asala wasn’t sure what her status was. A letter had arrived from Shokrakar not too long ago that Leliana had forwarded to her via messenger bird. She’d felt a bit bad about not having had a moment to write on her own but the letter had made her smile. Her leader’s no nonsense attitude had been very welcome and grounding. That, and it was amusing to read. She’d written a reply to the spymaster, asking for assistance where her missing kith was concerned as there hadn’t been enough Qunari bodies from the Temple to account for them all. She’d also sent along a reply to the letter that Leliana had sent on back to Shokrakar. “Only for a short while,” she finally settled on in terms of a response to the young man in front of her who nodded.

“No matter, you most likely know that among us, talk is cheap. Come to the Storm Coast, and you can see us in action.”

“I’ll definitely forward this,” Asala assured him with a smile. It couldn’t be that big of a detour as they were already heading there anyway. “You do sound promising.”

He threw her a lopsided grin, a charming feature. “We’re the best you can find. Come to the Storm Coast. I guarantee you won’t be disappointed.” Asala couldn’t refrain from reciprocating the gesture.

“We’ll see you there,” she said before heading off to find Varric and then Solas.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If anyone's interested, here are the ages I'm going on. I've used official approximates where they were available.  
> Asala: 26
> 
> Leliana: 38  
> Cullen: 33  
> Josephine: 28
> 
> Cassandra: 42  
> Varric: 41  
> Solas: 45 (appears/for those of you who's played/spoiled yourself with Trespasser, you know the truth)  
> Blackwall: 47  
> Iron Bull: 37  
> Vivienne: 39  
> Sera: 19  
> Dorian: 32  
> Cole: 21 (physically)
> 
> Morrigan: 35  
> Hawke: 34-35  
> Stroud: 37-39  
> Harding: 31-34
> 
> I realise that Bull is over a decade older than Asala (whoa!) but considering what we know of his CV, it didn't feel right making him much younger than that. And I making her older just didn't fit in with her trying to conceal her magic. We know magic can (apparently) appear later in life due to Trespasser but I felt I'd already pressed that part more than enough when considering the previous two games.  
> Sera? Well, we know she was a kid during the Blight. How old is a kid? To me, she could have been anything from 7-11 (to not make her too young during Inquisition). And her demeanour spells some kind of teen.  
> With Vivienne there were some notes about her, like Leliana, looking younger than she actually is and considering her fear in the Nightmare Fade, I felt that was a fair approximate for her.


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Meeting the Bull's Chargers turns out to be far more surprising than Asala previously thought it would.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here comes the bride-- I mean, Bull! Hope it's (nearly) everything you guys wanted. ;p  
> I'm also posting a short (two chapter) piece that touches upon Hawke and a few of her companions that ties into this story. It can be skipped, read on its own or as some additional info/feels connected to this story.

It took a few days longer to reach the last known location of the Inquisition’s men on the Storm Coast than it had to reach the Hinterlands. To make matters even better, it’d begun to rain at some point, starting as a drizzle that eventually became a steady downfall. At least it wasn’t pouring down, Asala consoled herself as they began to search for any sign or camp in the vicinity. It took another hour but find the camp they did, as well as the lead scout; Harding. Asala had only ever met the dwarven woman once before but she was a welcome sight. At least until she delivered the bad news about why there had been no news from the Coast.

“Some of our soldiers went to speak with the bandits’ leader. Haven’t heard back, though,” the woman confessed a bit anxiously. It was a good guess if she was worried what her superiors might think of her group’s actions and progress so far or if she was worried about her comrades.

“About that… We’re here to do what we can,” Asala reassured her but at the same time was disappointed that it wasn’t demons she had to deal with. “Did a young man, a member of the mercenary company the Bull’s Chargers, pass through here?” The lieutenant had gone on ahead and while he might only have gained half a day or a day at most, sometimes that was all it took to lose or win a battle. It would also simplify matters if he and his company were close and could be found swiftly.

Harding nodded. “Yes, passed our camp late last evening. He gave us prior warning of your arrival before continuing down the hill towards the shoreline. As for the bandits, our soldiers didn’t have an exact location, but they were starting their search farther down the beach. I’d say that’d be your best bet. Oh, and apologies, your worship,” Harding added, looking a mite embarrassed. “With all this fuss, we haven’t been able to conduct a proper search for the Wardens, either.” That was true. Leliana had said that there’d been rumours of a Grey Warden presence on the Coast as well. So far, however, the one in the Hinterlands was the best lead as they actually had a name to go on there. Asala nodded at the lead scout’s report.

“If we come across anything, we’ll let you know. And,” Asala hesitated a moment before continuing, “please just call me Herald,” _if you must,_ she added mentally.

The woman raised both brows for a second but then nodded. “As you wish.” A tentative smile arose on her lips, as though she wasn’t sure if what she was about to say next should be a joke or not. “Well, good luck, and enjoy the sea air. I hear it’s good for the soul.” Asala raised a brow at the comment, fairly certain the dwarf didn’t know the meaning of her first name and then wondered why the Southerners would say such a thing unless they meant it as a joke. If anything, constantly assaulted by this weather would only leave you sick due to cold and wetness. Asala shook her head as the group headed towards the edge of the hill the camp was situated. It offered a great vantage point over the surrounding area and the part of the beach.

A sudden screech rent the air, making Asala’s heart jump in her chest and head shoot skywards. Not even the rain could force her eyes to narrow despite her hands suddenly being like glued to her sides. In the distance, half shrouded in the seemingly never-ending cover of rain clouds, a hulking shadow slowly emerged and took form until it was nearly revealed.

“Ataashi!” Her voice was a whisper mingled with her breath as it escaped her lungs after being trapped there for a cramped moment. She shivered gently as she drew in a new breath, though she didn’t feel cold in the least despite being long since drenched.

“Well, at least she’s heading away from here and not closer.” Varric’s voice, coming from somewhere close by, drew her out of her state and she nodded shakily.

“Y-yes. That’s… good.” If any of her companions noticed that she didn’t sound overly convinced or relieved, they didn’t comment on it. Asala wasn’t sure what she wanted the dragon to do either. She was honestly torn but even so, they were hardly equipped to fight it right now, not even equipped to get close, and there were a lot of things on their agenda already… She let her breath flow out of her inaudibly. _Reapply your focus,_ she thought slightly distracted. “Let’s get down to the beach and see if we can’t find that mercenary company or our soldiers.”

It didn’t take long to traverse the terrain but a certain amount of caution was still exercised due to the slick ground. However, once closer to the shore, not even the steady downfall or crash of the waves could mask the sounds of battle up ahead. The lieutenant, Cremisius, had said the Bull’s Chargers had been looking into a group of Tevinter mercenaries here. Had they run into them already? A nod at her companions and weapons were readied as they hurried closer to the shore. Rounding the base of a steep hill, the field of battle came into view. Asala had fought on sand once and wouldn’t recommend it but these combatants seemed to manage fairly well, despite the weather as an added bonus. That in itself spoke strongly of how talented they were.

“Take down anyone with Tevinter colours,” Asala reminded them before the battle was joined. Cassandra gave a quick, curt nod before rushing forward with her shield in front of her, making Asala feel sorry for the man the warrior was aiming for even before he was hit. Raising her staff and squinting against the rain, she threw a barrier around a pair of warriors who were facing off with some Tevinter soldiers and… then stuttered to a halt as a human suddenly stumbled out from behind a large cart stacked high with boxes and equipment bearing the Tevinter crest. Well, it wasn’t so much the Tevinter man falling over, his chest bleeding profusely from a great laceration across it, as the large figure following the downed foe out from behind the cart. She stared.

 _Of course_ , some small part of her brain piped up as if from a distance, _just of course! You’ve heard it before, Southerners arguing over whether some horns resemble those of their cows or the ferocious dragons. There are, of course, so many different types of dragons, and thus horns, so no one can ever agree but that, plus their name, should have tipped you off._ Of _course_ , there’d be a Qun… Tal-Vashoth, in the mercenary company calling itself the Bull’s Chargers. Why had it not hit her when the company leader’s name was stated as Iron Bull? Why was it even a surprise—

“Asala!” She actually jumped before whirling to see Solas staring at her and Varric eyeing her a few paces away. The dwarf must have been calling on her and she hadn’t heard. He, too, used Herald at times but he was slowly starting to use her given name more. Solas, however, had never really gotten into calling her Herald and since acting as her tutor in magic, it would have been odder still to call her that than by her name.

“Y-yes, sorry!” she stumbled over her words as she quickly turned back to the fight before her. She could be shocked later.

It didn’t take too long to bring the Tevinters down after Asala’s group arrived. The two mercenary companies had been fairly evenly matched before but with two more mages fighting against them, the tables were quickly turned. Asala was pretty happy Cassandra’s armour had the Inquisition crest blazoned on her chest as well as being on her shield. It was always better to be safe than sorry when entering a battle you hadn’t been a part of from the start to avoid any mishaps.

“Chargers, stand down!” Her ears twitched at the strong voice raised to carry above the crash of the waves. She didn’t even need to see who spoke to make a guess. She gave a nod to Solas where he stood beside her as another apology for getting lost in her own mind earlier before starting towards the only other person on the beach that resembled her in the least. He was pretty huge. No wonder he chose the mercenary’s path. Most Tal-Vashoth did but they didn’t _have_ to and that was while disregarding how some just turned to complete chaos and lawlessness. She’d never met one of those Tal-Vashoth herself, thankfully, but she’d stayed in a small village to begin with, hardly ever leaving the chantry grounds. When she did leave, it hadn’t taken long before she met the Valo-Kas and then that was it. She’d heard about those lost souls from her kith though. No matter what they did, she felt more pity for them than anything. Whatever reason caused them to lose their way and leave must have been truly harsh for them to turn so completely towards chaos and the dragon’s blood.

Focusing upon the company leader, she drew closer. He was talking to his lieutenant about the battle and from what she could hear, it’d gone very well. The report was brief but to the point, too brief for her taste because it meant she’d soon have to speak to him and she just didn’t know where to go with that. He made her think of home, miss her kith and long for something familiar while on this crazy journey, whether that was on the road or while stuck in Haven.

As the lieutenant left, the leader’s focus fell on her and he began to laugh heartily. “Hot damn, it’s true!” he said with a wide grin. “The Chantry must _love_ you.” Asala gave him a lopsided but tentative smile. He had no idea. If just seeing her face cracked him up, he should have been in Val Royeaux some two weeks prior. “Hah! A Qunari mercenary is the Herald of Andraste. Who’d’a thought?” he said with an amused shake of his head. He’d been speaking Common the whole time but staring at him just made her think more and more about her kith.

“Shenedan, Sten.” It was out of her mouth before she could consider the wisdom of it. She’d always spoken, more or less exclusively, Qunlat with her kith and seeing him… she just couldn’t help it!

“Uh… yeah, let’s try to keep that to a minimum, shall we?” he said somewhat awkwardly as he rolled a shoulder. “Makes the boys twitchy,” he supplied as explanation and Asala nodded. Fair enough, she could see how her speaking Qunlat in Haven could make people concerned but… still. She missed it.

“As you wish,” she confirmed with a nod and he threw his head at some nearby rocks. She followed him over to them and took a seat across from him. It was wet and chilly but she was already soaked through and the chill didn’t feel as bad as the others seemed to think it was. Then again, that was most likely just because of the Qunari constitution, seeing how the man across from her wore nothing on his upper torso except for black vitaar on the left half and a leather harness over the right.

“I’m Asala Adaar… most members of the Inquisition call me the Herald of Andraste though,” she introduced herself.

“The Iron Bull,” he replied with a nod before giving a wave to someone behind Asala. “I assume you remember Cremisius Aclassi, my lieutenant.”

“Good to see you again,” the young man said as Asala gave him a smile before turning back to his boss. “Throatcutters are done, chief.”

“Already?” Iron Bull frowned as he set his one remaining eye on the human. “Have ‘em check again. I don’t want any of those Tevinter bastards getting away,” he ordered before a smirk tugged on one corner of his mouth and a chuckle escaped. “No offense, Krem.”

The young man mirrored the smirk. “None taken,” he replied without any spite. “Least a bastard knows who his mother was. Puts him one up on you Qunari, right?” he said as he turned to carry out his order. Asala watched him go. She’d heard that comment once or twice before and found it odd. Asala knew perfectly well who had given what when it came to her charges, even herself. The latter had been a bit of an accident though as she’d come across her numbers while checking up something for a charge once. She wasn’t sure what the Southern term would be for the connection but her mother had been the boy’s grandmother. In the long run, did it matter? It didn’t to most under the Qun as it didn’t affect their lives and the only reason she knew was because she’d been a tamassran.

“So… You’ve seen us fight.” The man’s words drew her attention back onto him. “We’re expensive, but we’re worth it… and I’m sure the Inquisition can afford us.”

Asala nodded, that they did as far as she could tell. “The Chargers seem like an excellent company,” she agreed. She knew the Inquisition was standing alone now since they broke from the Chantry but when she had relayed the message to the war council, no one had said it’d be a bad idea. Or that it probably wasn’t the smartest financial move right now.

Iron Bull nodded confidently. “They are, but you’re just not getting the boys. You’re getting me.” Asala raised a brow at that but didn’t have to ask him expound on the matter. “You need a front line bodyguard? I’m your man, whatever it is – demons, dragons? The bigger the better.” She wasn’t sure if that meant he sought the contracts with the bigger, more dangerous targets or not but she’d certainly always preferred to avoid them. The almost perfect latticework of scars on his torso seemed to imply he’d been in his line of work for a while and if she wasn’t wrong then he was certainly older than her by half a decade to a decade. As he stood up, Asala followed suit.

“And there’s one other thing.” Asala couldn’t help but think it sounded almost like a caution but he continued calmly enough. “Might be useful, might piss you off.” She frowned at him but nodded for him to go on. “Ever hear of the Ben-Hassrath?”

Asala froze.

She could feel some of the warmth draining from her face. _No,_ _stay calm,_ she admonished herself. It could just as well be that he’d had trouble with them in the past and felt it fair to mention it. Just because he was the first Qunari— Tal-Vashoth, damn it! she’d met beside her kith didn’t mean this was about her. She finally managed to give a careful nod as she studied him warily.

“I…” Had to come up with something quick, that’s what. “I heard about the Ben-Hassrath from my parents.” That wasn’t so outlandish and it didn’t contradict with the rest of her story. It also held some truth because she counted her tamassran as her mother, how the Southerners saw a mother at least, and she’d told Asala about them. “They’re the enforcer and spies among the Qunari.” She wanted to wince at the over-simplification of the Ben-Hassrath but refrained.

Iron Bull regarded her for a silent second, making her wonder if the raindrops pelting her back hadn’t been joined by a drop of cold sweat as they ran down her spine. She needed, _had to_ know why he was bringing it up. “Yeah, that’s them,” he confirmed at last, never taking his eye off her. “Or, well, us,” he confessed and Asala blinked then staggered half a step back. It felt like the gravel on the beach was moving under her feet but she refused to look down to disprove her brain’s ludicrous notion. It wasn’t moving, it was just… _his words_.

“Y-you…” She couldn’t form a sentence as she stared at the man. Had she been wrong? It’d been two years and no one had known for sure about her powers when she left! She’d left because it’d been a damned close call and she’d lashed out with a sleep spell that she usually used on her charges when they had trouble settling down for the night. No one could’ve known why she left, they just couldn’t! “You’re a… spy and you just… told me?”

He shrugged. The near nonchalance at the accusation was almost disturbing. “Whatever happened at that conclave thing, it’s bad. Someone needs to get that Breach closed.”

Asala’s eyes sank to the ground. “Believe me, we’re trying,” she said bitterly. It was just proving damn difficult as everyone seemed intent on being an idiot or preventing the deed. She heaved a heavy sigh and raised her head again to find him studying her. A second passed in silence and Asala rolled her shoulders anxiously.

“In that case, whatever I am, I’m on your side.”

She frowned at him. She wasn’t sure what to do next. She’d gone from hoping she’d get something that would, in spirit, be like what she had with her kith to fearing everything she’d done up until this point was going to come crashing down around her. Would he be able to tell when she was lying? She’d tried to make her story as close to the truth as possible because a lie would always shine through. However, if something held more than a grain of truth, it was less likely to be figured out. Or at least that’s what she’d figured… _No, just go on as you always have. You’re a Vashoth, that’s it. You’re not a Tal-Vashoth. You’re not a Saarebas. You’re a… Asala Adaar, a soul weapon. And now you’re also a Herald. Whatever that means. Believe it and it’ll be all anyone sees._

“Why did you confess to being a spy?” It seemed like a completely logical and fair question but Iron Bull raised his brows.

“Hide that kind of information from something called the Inquisition?” he asked with a short laugh. “I would have been tipped off sooner or later. Better you hear it right up front from me.”

“I guess so… But why are the Ben-Hassrath concerned? It’s down here in the South.” Had more rifts appeared farther afield? All the way up in Par Vollen or Seheron? _Enlightened Prophet, please don’t let it be that._ She couldn’t go up _there_ and close rifts. She didn’t dare!

“The Ben-Hassrath are concerned about the Breach. Magic out of control like that could cause trouble everywhere.” He didn’t know it but his words put to rest a great fear in her. That it could meant it hadn’t affected the Qunari lands yet. That was good. “I’ve been ordered to join the Inquisition, get close to the people in charge, and send reports on what’s happening.” Asala blinked at that. She wasn’t really one of the people in charge, so that was good. Sure, on one hand, some might see her as such but there was a difference between doing something necessary or important, even being the only one who could do it, and leading an organisation. “But I also _get_ reports from Ben-Hassrath agents all over Orlais. You sign me on, I’ll share them with your people.” Asala stared at him once more and, damn it, that was happening far too often. She didn’t like it but the Inquisition _could_ benefit from those reports. Probably. Most likely… Damn it! She both didn’t and did, on a very small scale, want him to join and if the Inquisition as a whole could benefit from it…

“You’ll confer with the spymaster on what can be safely said in these reports.” She half wished that the simple stipulation would cause him to back off because then she wouldn’t have to. She missed not being the only one with grey skin and horns on her head. Damn the homesickness, the weakness.

“Of course.” His words dashed her hope of an easy retreat.

“Don’t make me regret this,” she warned him as much as she warned herself.

“Doubt you will,” he told her as he turned towards where his company sat drinking. Varric had shared a cup, Asala noted, but Cassandra and Solas had refrained. “Krem!” The young man was up the moment he heard his name. “Tell the men to finish drinking on the road. The Chargers just got hired!”

It didn’t take long before the mercenary company began to get ready to head out and Cassandra and the others had joined Asala for a brief introduction and… explanation on what the Iron Bull was. That was an awkward moment for her but the man in question didn’t have any trouble talking about it. Cassandra didn’t seem too happy but when the Qunari mentioned why the Ben-Hassrath wanted to know more, to decide whether or not they needed to send an invasion south, his presence was considered the lesser of two evils. At least that’s what Asala thought she read upon the warrior’s face. She wasn’t sure what Varric thought and from having spoken to him, he should have been the one with the strongest opposition, considering Kirkwall. Maybe he saw the benefits as greater than the disadvantages.

“The Chargers are all set to move out, chief,” Krem announced as he came up to them shortly afterwards. Asala wondered if they knew about their leader’s true identity.

“Good. You know the drill when it comes to the contract.”

Asala turned to look at Iron Bull confusedly. “You’re not going with them?”

He shook his head. “Nah. Thought I’d see what you guys are made of and what we’re up against. Unless you don’t want me along, boss?” Asala blinked hard a few times. It was the first time she’d been called that by… anybody! It was weird. She wasn’t sure which would be weirder; being called Herald or boss.

“It’s… not a problem but, for now, all we need from this area is to find our missing men and confirm whether there are any rifts here or not. So far, there just seems to be bandits,” Asala explained and the man shrugged despite the huge axe slung across his back. Then again, he was a wall of bulky muscles so it shouldn’t have surprised her.

With the Bull’s Chargers off to Haven and Iron Bull in tow, they set out along the beach in search of any trace of the missing soldiers. The day was becoming early afternoon by the time they found the first trace; a small but abandoned campsite. It was no more than disturbed nature and a long since cold fireplace but the Inquisition soldiers had left a water-resilient skin behind with a note inside. Apparently it was in case they ran into any trouble and anyone came looking for them. Leliana had given them good instructions, indeed.

“They’ve headed inland,” Asala said as she raised her gaze to the cliffs fencing off the beach. The rain had slowed to a drizzle that, while annoying, they could survive for a few hours more. “They mentioned…” she trailed off as she searched the distant bluffs. “There,” she announced when she spotted the shack. “Possibly,” she added before relaying the message’s content. The scouts had decided to head inland and were going to set up another camp in a pair of small houses they’d spotted up on a cliff edge. If there were inhabited, which had been deemed unlikely, then maybe the people there would have some clues about the bandits.

“There’s no way up there from this side,” Varric pointed out as he squinted at their goal and the steep cliff face.

“Let’s have a look beyond it. There may be a path,” Solas supplied and motioned towards the base of the cliff and the hints of beach beyond it. It didn’t take too long to reach the cliff but a loud crash suddenly echoed from beyond it. And then another.

“What is that noise?” Cassandra asked as the group moved forward with a bit more caution. Rounding the cliff base, the beach ahead curved inwards and further down it…

“Okay, now _that’s_ badass!”

Except for Iron Bull’s awed comment, silence reigned. Well, that and the sounds of the giant and Vinsomer dragon battling farther up the beach. Asala could only stare at the sight. Yes… yes, that was… quite impressive.

“Anyone ever seen anything worse?”

A memory flashed at Iron Bull’s question, a memory of a ship caught on the fringes of a harsh storm with strong winds and stronger still waves buffeting it from all sides. The rain poured down in harsh sheets, partially blinding anyone mad enough to be out in it on purpose and anyone unfortunate enough to not get away. She didn’t know what she’d been of the two options. Perhaps a bit of both. What the crew of the fishing vessel was… she wasn’t sure, not even to this day. Obviously they thought the tamassran had been given a duty and she would be damned to be kept from it. They’d taken her from Par Vollen, as requested, and gotten caught in a storm. While struggling to steer the ship further away, the sight had appeared. A thunderclap had boomed, causing all on deck to turn their heads just as the heavens opened up in the distant eye of the storm and rained its wrath down upon the crashing waves. And then a shriek rent the air as the massive aban-ataashi rose from the depths, spiralling upwards as lightning crashed into it from all sides, as if drawn to it.

A crash disrupted the memory. The giant had tried to bash the dragon’s skull in. Asala inhaled deeply, slowly, then answered the question that had most likely been rhetorical. “Yes.”

She felt his eye on her. When it didn’t immediately go away, she turned her focus onto the other Qunari. “You’ve got to tell me about that one sometime, boss,” he promised, for a promise it was. He really wanted to know what she thought more awesome than this match of giants. She could see the admiration for the sheer force and brutality of the fight in his eye. Asala nodded slowly. When she’d figured out how to tell him about that memory without it seeming odd that she was out in a storm, she would.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ataashi – dragon  
> Aban-ataashi – sea dragon/cetus
> 
> As it has been noted, all Qunari (at least under the Qun) admire and feel some sort of connection to dragons and as Asala lived under the Qun until two years ago, her reaction was rather obvious. I know there's a dragon in the Hinterlands but it's at a dead end and since they're not the Dragon Hunters but the Inquisition, I didn't go to Lady Shayna's Valley.  
> And because the image came to me and wouldn't leave (again), here's the flashback with the sea dragon Asala was talking about:  
> http://jinsei.deviantart.com/art/DAI-Ataash-aban-586379261
> 
> For those of you who haven't read about the sea dragons, the ONLY dragon to date that we haven't seen in the PC/console games:  
> http://dragonage.wikia.com/wiki/Cetus
> 
> Apparently, I must have some specific mod installed because my Iron Bull has a vitaar during the first meeting and onwards, not just during some romance scenes. And since Asala always wears a vitaar, I decided to go the same route because as it's been said by Bull; if you see a member of Beresaad in full armour, you RUN, because we're at war. And while Bull can be fight-happy, he isn't a maniac, so... he'd probably wear some sort of protection. Then again... all his scars seems to want to tell me I'm wrong.


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Blades of Hessarian are found and dealt with, while news from Haven reach the Storm Coast.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Know what I need in Qunlat? "For fuck's sake", that's what. Both for this story and my daily life (the latter because it'd be amusing).

In the end, the dragon flew off, leaving the giant to aimlessly lumber around on the beach. It was a good thing the dumb lug wasn’t anywhere near the path up the steep hill that led up to the top of the bluff. Asala would have considered it a waste of time to have to fight, scare or lure it off.

“Hey.” Asala turned her head to meet Iron Bull’s gaze as they climbed the hill. “Gotta say, I’m impressed by your horns.” One of her hands immediately flew to the feature he was complimenting but she managed to stop it just before touching them.

“It…” She returned her eyes to the path to not miss any loose, wet stones and go sliding down into Cassandra behind her. “It was an accident.” She forced her hand back down. She’d never spoken of the time they broke and no one had asked. Those who were with the Inquisition before they tried to close the Breach knew she came back from the Temple with broken horns and those who joined the organisation after probably just thought she’d always been like this. “During our first attempt to close the Breach, a big demon pushed through. I didn’t get the chance to dodge one of its blows…” She trailed off again as she felt his eyes on her and she cast her gaze on the other Qunari. She hadn’t meant to encourage him but apparently any fight with an awe-inspiring or frightening foe did it for him. He’d even told her so little under an hour ago. Should teach her to pay attention.

“How big was it?”

Asala frowned. She hadn’t exactly spent any time measuring the huge demon. She’d been a bit too busy for that, but didn’t say. “Uhm… maybe… two to three times your height?” she guessed as she tried to remember the event in detail.

“Nice!” Iron Bull laughed approvingly. Asala just shook her head.

Once they crested the bluff, the shacks were visible through the trees. They looked pretty run down from here, making Asala assume they wouldn’t find the Inquisition soldiers in there but probably some other note or an abandoned camp again. “Human up ahead,” Cassandra warned as they moved closer. There was, but they hadn’t taken many steps before someone yelled a charge and another five men were suddenly pouring out from the closer building. As weapons were being drawn, the group didn’t really need to guess at what would come next.

The fight proved easy enough. Cassandra had obviously been paying attention to how the Chargers fought, minimising openings for the enemy between the two warriors. That Iron Bull was able to smoothly operate around Cassandra wasn’t surprising either but maybe that was just Asala being sore over not having spotted the Ben-Hassrath agent long before he told her himself.

“That was brutally effective.” Asala nodded mutely at Varric’s completely superfluous comment after the short fight was over. Either word would have sufficed but both were… she surveyed the carnage. Well, maybe it was fitting. Shaking her head with a sigh, she moved swiftly towards the closest shack. She wondered if she’d ever get used, or numb, really, to the carnage left behind on a battlefield. So many lives wasted. And then she pushed open the door to the shack that had swung closed behind the bandits’ forceful exit.

Silence descended.

“What’s the matter?” Solas came up behind her but stopped quickly. He must have seen the scene around her, for a Qunari, slender frame. Even though her eyes refused to move away from what lay before her, her peripheral vision registered Solas closing his eyes and respectfully taking a step back. She wished she could do the same. The stench of blood from behind mingled with the, probably, not even hour older stench of blood from inside the shack. Asala knew exactly when Cassandra saw the scene due to the curse hissed under the woman’s breath.

Finally able to force herself forward, Asala moved into the worn building, carefully moving between the unceremoniously slung bodies. If they’d come just a little bit sooner… If they’d moved faster this morning so they reached the camp and Harding and then moved out sooner… There was no point cursing about it now, she knew, but… The fact that it’d been so damned close rankled her! None of them were alive, she didn’t even need to consult her magic to know they were all long gone.

“Murdered. Shit.” Varric’s words were simple but there wasn’t much more to be said about the scene.

“I’ll see to that their families are notified when we return,” Cassandra said tightly.

A lone little table stood towards the back of the shack, barely holding it together but then, the parchment and leather strip lying on top hardly weighed a thing. Asala’s steps picked up pace as her eyes settled on the note. Even from where she’d spotted it, it didn’t look worn or crumpled. She snatched it up when she reached the table and frowned as she read it. It crinkled in unhappy protest as the hand holding it tightened its hold. Golden eyes darted to the table once more. No, those weren’t _just_ strips of deepstalker hide. It held a chunk of that greenish metal, serpentstone, too. Asala’s eyes hardened and she pressed her teeth together to not curse out loud herself as she picked up the simple medallion. A Mercy’s Crest the note had called it. Couldn’t the bandits just have sent the scouts _back_ with the bleeding note?

“Qalaba-vashedan,” she ground out in a hiss before turning on the spot and, holding up the crest, explained the note to the others. “They claimed to not be the hand but the sword and a weapon isn’t to blame for the actions of the wielder.”

“Their leader,” Cassandra filled in and Asala nodded. She assumed as much, too.

“Well, if you’re interested, seems like we can challenge their leader with that,” Iron Bull noted with a nod at the medallion.

“Looks like they’ve got a main camp farther up the beach and slight inland,” Varric spoke from a nearby pile of broken wood where he crouched. Standing up, he turned around and held up a map.

Asala cast an eye at the map before glaring once again at the rough trinket. These “Blades” had stripped the Inquisition of lives, of some of its most precious resource... If this trinket allowed them to make a demand, put an end to that… then the Inquisition would make a requisition of the Blades of Hessarian, even if they had to do it at sword point.

“How long will it take to get there?”

“Maybe another hour in these conditions?” Varric answered her question.

Asala almost spoke before something hit her and she had to mentally slow down. “Seeker,” as she spoke, Cassandra turned her gaze to Asala, “what do you wish to do with the bodies? We can postpone going down there until tomorrow so that we can settle matters here and have a good night’s rest at the main camp.” Cassandra nodded gratefully.

“The families would be very grateful for such a gesture, Herald.”

The rest of the day was spent ferrying the four bodies back to the Inquisition main camp and giving Harding the rundown of the situation so that it could be forwarded to Leliana. Asala would have liked to go to the bandits immediately but not being fresh on their feet while entering a camp, possibly fortified and with an unknown number of potentially hostile targets, was indeed stupid. It was also better to go in there with a more level head, she knew, and that came with sleep. The morning couldn’t come fast enough but when it did, it was overcast.

 _Better that than rain,_ Asala silently agreed without feeling any happier about it as they set off. It took a while to find the location on the map but once they did, they could confirm it was lightly fortified with a palisade. “Here goes,” she grumbled as she put on the Mercy’s Crest, shortening the strings so that it was in plain sight on her chest. The Blades _had_ stated the terms of… a more peaceful way of meeting but it still felt wrong to walk up to a stronghold like no one in there would attack them. There were two guards at the gate and either they were both staring at her chest, finding it too fascinating to move, or they actually recognised the medallion she wore. As they looked up at her party a moment later, Asala figured it was the latter. They did cast her odd looks though.

“A Qunari?” As they drew closer she could hear them speak.

“Well, if you believe what’s been said…” the other guard said with a quick shrug.

“Hn. We’ll see.” The woman at the gate locked eyes with Asala as they arrived before the two humans. “You wear Mercy’s Crest. Go on in and speak your piece.”

“And luck to you,” the other guard said in a low voice as they passed. Maybe he didn’t think they’d hear him. “You’re gonna need it.”

Once the gate opened, the enclosed space revealed several wooden buildings, a rough stable and about a dozen and a half people, mostly humans. They all stood around the camp but when they spotted the medallion, they all moved off to the sides. Their movements left an area to the right empty of people… save one. Asala frowned at the rugged man as she walked up to him.

“Are you the hand that wields the blade?”

The man looked her up and down, snorting. “So you would challenge the Blades of Hessarian?” he countered her question with one of his own. “Or did you expect me to stand down just because you’re an oxman?” he sneered.

“I don’t care what you think,” Asala stated with a small glare. “I’m here on behalf of the Inquisition as the Blades killed its soldiers. We’re not at the Storm Coast seeking to aggrieve anyone. We came to see whether the Breach’s influence had spread here, too, and now I want to know who killed our soldiers,” she ground out the second half of the sentence as her gaze hardened. It didn’t seem to move the man much.

“You want justice?” he snorted, drawing his axe and shield. “Claim it.”

“Pashaara, venak hol,” she muttered in retort but then had to quickly jump backwards, almost crashing into Iron Bull as the leader yelled his charge and attacked. He could have shown a bit more respect for his own customs and told her to draw her weapons or something! Asala ripped her staff free as the other Qunari steadied her.

“Boss—”

“No,” she interrupted him, readying a barrier spell. If the leader of this group wanted a one-on-one, then she could give it. She didn’t prefer it but felt she was adept enough with barrier spells to pull it off. And then two armoured dogs suddenly charged in from the side to their master’s aid. “Vashedan!” Asala swore before a shield flashed to her left and slammed into one of the large beasts, slowing it. _I guess it can’t be a simple one-on-one,_ Asala thought darkly as Iron Bull tackled the leader on her right. As long as the whole camp didn’t join the man, they should be all right.

Asala had never gone up against one of the Fereldan hounds before. It quickly became obvious that they weren’t like any other dogs. The most telling part was the too many almost misses by snapping jaws, mostly saved by barriers and last minute dodging, closely followed by quite a bit of cursing. In the end, the leader of the Blades lay dead as did one of the dogs. The other hound had backed off and no one pursued it. Asala took a moment to catch her breath before turning around to glare at the gathered members of the group.

“Are we done now?” she demanded tersely and when no one spoke up she heaved a sigh. “Great,” she muttered and stroke a hand up her arm, healing energy trailing in its wake, to close a cut the leader had managed to inflict upon her person. He’d gotten damn lucky and managed to catch her right between the lines of her vitaar. She raised her gaze from the wound, now gone, and set them on the man approaching her. _What now?_ she wondered with a frown. He stopped a respectful distance from her.

“Your Worship.” Asala immediately had to roll her shoulders to try and dispel the discomfort that title always brought on. Wasn’t it enough that they called her Herald? “The Blades of Hessarian are at your service.” That meant the Inquisition wasn’t about to have any more trouble with them? That was good. “If you want eyes on the coast, here we are,” the man added, causing Asala to frown confusedly.

“Does this mean that the Blades of Hessarian are loyal to the Inquisition?” It would be immensely helpful to have someone to report on rift activity in the northern reach of Ferelden.

The man shook his head. “We’re loyal to _you_.” That made her freeze. Say what? Her personally? Not the Inquisition? “But I suppose that’s the same thing, Your Worship.” No. No, it _really_ wasn’t! She was _not_ the Inquisition! She was just… the Herald. She… closed rifts. As Asala stared at the man she could tell that trying to argue the point would be close to futile. If she actually got it across that she was not the Inquisition, they would most likely just say they were loyal to the Herald of Andraste instead and then… she’d have to stand as an intermediary or they wouldn’t listen to or do anything anyone from the Inquisition said. Why—!? …She heaved a sigh. _Maraas shokra. Asit kost say sataa. Asit tal-eb._ At least this _had_ to be it because if this wasn’t what was meant to be then… She didn’t know what to do with the world. She would’ve gone and hid under some rock maybe if she wasn’t so damned necessary due to the rifts and Breach. All of this, her being in the South and now also stuck in this position she wasn’t meant to hold could all be blamed on her magic, she was sure. Accursed thing.

“All right,” she responded tiredly. Maybe she should just give up on trying to correct people about her altogether? “Please relay any prudent information, especially regarding rifts or demonic presence, to the Inquisition,” she ordered while trying to not sound completely miserable about it.

“Actually, Your Worship, there has been some odd sightings in the area.” Asala had begun to turn towards the gate but stopped at that comment. Once they got out a map and had the locations pointed out, she stopped blocking out her mark’s power to verify if there indeed were only two rifts in the area. As far as she could tell, it appeared the Blades had been correct. That was nice. She was suddenly very tired of the Storm Coast.

They set off towards the shore and the closer of the two rifts. It was visible well before they could spot any of the demons surrounding it due to it already being open. Most of the time, they seemed to react harshly to Asala’s presence, cracking open wider so that more demons could pour through faster. This one was apparently one of the rarer cases where the rift was already active enough all on its own. One of the gangly horrors had begun to stray really far from it, too. A quick nod at Varric and the dwarf loaded up Bianca before taking out the monstrosity with a perfect head shot. After that it was just to charge right in because subtlety was dead at that point. The fight proved a bit more strenuous than usual, something most likely attributed to the rift’s overly active status and more power flowing through to strengthen the shades. When the demons were at last all dead and Asala could focus on closing it, the power from it burned as it coursed through the mark back into the Fade.

As the rift snapped shut, Asala hissed and shook her hand, glaring at the last and fast fading glow. “Next,” she ground out but realised she must have sounded fairly harsh as she caught Cassandra watching her. She immediately stopped shaking her marked hand and gave the woman a weak smile. “It was a strong one. The other doesn’t look as bright,” she explained. It wasn’t much anyone could do about it after all and they had to close them. No rift had, so far, been as bad as that big one right below the Breach though, the one Solas had labelled as the first.

“So how does that work?”

Asala cast a sidelong glance at Iron Bull when they started off for the second rift. He was Qunari. She knew better than anyone here how the Qunari viewed magic and the Beyond. What could she say about the mark that wouldn’t sound like she needed to be put down like a rabid animal? Or maybe that was just her being paranoid about what the people in Qunandar would have to say about it. “It’s… On one hand it’s… In a way, it’s a point of highly concentrated magical power that can mend the tears in the Veil,” she finally settled for after floundering about for a few seconds. Turning her eyes forward again, she hoped that’d be all. Hoped that he’d think her inability to describe it any better was because it was magic and he didn’t have it so he wouldn’t understand.

“And on the other hand?” No such fucking luck apparently.

Asala grit her teeth but then spun around on her heel and drew close. “It’s a bleeding hole into the Land of the Dead,” she spoke in a low, tightly controlled voice. “Does that do it?”

He blinked at her once, calmly. “Sure, boss.”

Asala took a calming breath and turned away, hoping she hadn’t sounded as desperately unhappy as she’d sounded to her own ears. Knowing what the man was however, she doubted he’d missed it. Interacting with the stronger rifts never did anything for her mood. Good thing they were few and far between. Half a second later she found herself subconsciously rubbing at her marked palm with the thumb of her other hand. Clenching the offending appendages into fists, she prayed the ground would start moving under their feet so they got to the other rift faster.

The second rift did prove to be not as bad, something that brightened Asala’s mood. It probably also helped that they headed back to the Inquisition base camp after that to continue on back to Haven. Once back at the camp, Harding greeted them. She was just about to head out as well but a messenger bird had arrived while they were out. Leliana finally had a solid lead on the Grey Warden in the Hinterlands and Cassandra was needed back at Haven. Before long they’d set off with Harding in tow. Once they reached the point where the Imperial Highway split on the eastern shore of Lake Calenhad, the party would go their separate ways with Cassandra and Harding heading for Haven, leaving Asala to lead Varric, Solas and Iron Bull south towards the Arling of Redcliffe and its section of the Hinterlands. It’d be the first time Asala hadn’t travelled with Cassandra at her side and it was a somewhat unwelcome reminder of the words spoken by the Blades of Hessarian but there wasn’t anything else for it. Then again, all they were doing was finding that Grey Warden, Blackwall, seeing if he knew anything about the other Wardens and then heading back to Haven, too. Cassandra had guessed that Josephine would probably soon have everything in order for the Inquisition to force a meeting with the Templar Order if that was the solution they decided on. That was some of the best news Asala had heard in a long time.

As far as incentive went, it was a pretty good one in Asala’s book.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Qalaba-vashedan – cow shit  
> Pashaara, venak hol – Enough, tiresome fool  
> Vashedan – Crap  
> Maraas shokra. Asit kost say sataa. Asit tal-eb. – There’s nothing to struggle against. Be at peace with the world. It is to be.
> 
> I lessened the amount of rifts in the Storm Coast to speed up this part of the story. Running all over the map like ants seemed rather pointless storywise.
> 
> Also, things I'll not touch upon in this story: Ocularum/Forbidden Oasis  
> As it's a side mission/area that has little impact on the main storyline, I'll ignore it. I'm not trying to write a book or waste anyone's time after all.
> 
> In the previous chapter "dragon's blood" was mention in connection to the Qunari. While Asala, as a tamassran who dealt with children, would probably have SOME information relevant to the Ben-Hassrath's assumptions about whether or not there is any actual blood of the beasts in the Qunari ancestry, I'm not using the term literally here. It's more like something the Qunari as a whole say about the chaos and power they rein in using the Qun. You could say it's probably just another word for the madness that Bull fears. It's mostly for immersion because that always does it for me in stories.


	13. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A member of the elusive Grey Wardens is found and disturbing news are delivered.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Has anyone noticed that, in-game, you appear to be a Vashoth but during the CC race pick, you're labled as a TAL-Vashoth. And during the prologue, there's a short, improptu Q&A with Varric where he calls you a Tal-Vashoth. Inconsistencyyyyy, Bioware! Then again, he could be assuming as Vashoth are probably rarer than Tal-Vashoth but the pc doesn't correct him.

The rumour regarding the Grey Warden’s location stated he was up near Lake Luthias. Asking a few questions while passing through the Crossroads yielded a similar result from a man named Giles. The trip to the lake wasn’t long and they arrived in the afternoon. From the eastern shore of the relatively small lake, the cottage on the opposite side was visible, as was the group gathered in front of it. It wasn’t possible to tell who they were, except for most definitely human. While water carried sound far better than an open field, Asala didn’t really fancy a shouting match across the body of water and walking around it didn’t take long due to its size. As they got closer, the sounds up ahead became clearer. A man with a strong, sure voice was giving instructions on basic fighting techniques to a group of younger men in simple clothing. They were armed but clearly not fighters.

“Remember how to carry your shields! You’re not hiding, you’re holding. Otherwise it’s useless.”

 _His armour does carry the crest of the Grey Warden Order_ , Asala confirmed as they came within hearing. “Excuse me! Are you Warden Blackwall?”

The man whipped around at the sound of her voice before striding towards her at a quick clip. “You’re not—” His words halted as he stopped in front of her. He had a strong presence, steady and unmoved, as he looked her up and down. “How do you know my name? Who sent—?” His eyes widened as they both registered the whistling sound of a projectile approaching. The warden threw up his shield with a loud grunt at the same time as Asala jerked around and raised a barrier. The arrow bit deep into the thick wood of the shield as the magic sprung to life around them just a second too late.

“Maker’s ba—” Blackwall’s mouth twisted and it was a good question if he chose to not waste his breath on the profanity or if he was of the human school of etiquette that said you didn’t swear around women. He certainly seemed to have the age for it, far as Asala could tell. Several metres away, a group of men emerged from behind a big rock and the surrounding trees. “That’s it,” the man beside her growled and, without looking at her, drew his own sword. “Help or get out,” he commanded. “We’re dealing with these idiots first! Conscripts! Here they come!” As they still needed to talk to the man, the answer was rather obvious. Asala didn’t even need to turn around to know the others had drawn their weapon just as she reached for hers. The heavy steps coming closer fast indicated that Iron Bull was already on the move, axe in hand. He passed her a second later, grin in place, as did the poor human villagers who looked a lot less enthusiastic about this development and sudden trial by fire of their rudimentary skills.

The attackers had most likely expected a much smaller, and less advanced, resistance and in the face of the overwhelming odds against them, the fight was over quickly. Asala almost felt sorry for them. The warden rolled his head, probably to get rid of a crick in the neck, before kneeling down by the closest foe. A quick glance around with hints of healing energies coursing through her told Asala they were all gone, the last to fall expelling his final breath by Iron Bull’s feet.

“Sorry bastards,” the warden muttered as Asala slowly approached him once again. He stood up and strode over to the villagers though, nodding at them. “Good work, conscripts. Even if this shouldn’t have happened, they could’ve— Well, thieves are made, not born,” he finished, summarising and simplifying the sentiment. “Take back what they stole and go home to your families. You saved yourselves.” The men moved slowly at first, as though unsure if they were actually allowed to leave, but picked up the pace after a few steps and unsure looks. As Asala moved closer once more, the man turned to study her with keen eyes. “You’re no farmer. Why do you know my name? Who are you?”

With everyone calling her Herald of Andraste, something that honestly had nothing to do with the Inquisition and everything to do with the Chantry, Asala wasn’t entirely sure how to answer that. Maybe simplicity was best. “I’m a member of the Inquisition. We recently tried getting in touch with your order only to find no one except for you. We’re investigating the murder of the Divine at the Temple of Sacred Ashes.” Leliana had been right; their disappearance was odd and there honestly weren’t many ways to phrase it without making it sound like she was accusing him and his order.

The warrior frowned at her. “Maker’s balls, the Wardens and the… No, you’re _asking_ ,” he interrupted himself, giving Asala the assumption that he was quick on the uptake. The warden shook his head. “First off, I didn’t know they disappeared. But we do that, right? No more Blight, job done. Wardens are the first thing forgotten.” He didn’t sound bitter about it, just stating a fact, as though he could’ve added a shrug to physically show how little the statement meant to him. His next words, however, were harsh with conviction and feeling. “But one thing I’ll tell you; no Warden killed the Divine. Our purpose isn’t political.” She’d assumed as much and nodded her agreement.

“I didn’t intend to accuse,” she soothed with a calm voice. “As you said, I’m asking because of your sudden disappearance across two different nations. We’re trying to eliminate targets in search of the truth.” Then she frowned. “How come you didn’t know the rest of your order has disappeared?”

“I’ve been on the road for months now, recruiting,” he replied with a shrug. “You don’t need to be more than one to do that. Then again, there’s not much interest because the Archdemon is a decade dead, and no need to conscript because there’s no Blight coming.” That was completely logical but it didn’t help in settling why _everyone_ had disappeared. “What with the mages and templars at each other’s throats, there didn’t seem to be anyone around to deal with these bandits, so I did. After today, those farmers hopefully won’t need such help again. Grey Wardens can inspire, make you better than you think you are and give you courage to stand where you otherwise might flee.” It wasn’t difficult to read the personal history behind those words and you didn’t even need to know exactly what that history was. What Asala did know however, was that it wasn’t what she was looking for. She let her shoulders drop a degree.

“I thank you for your time, Warden Blackwall. We’ll continue our search. I hope your recruitment goes well,” she said her farewell with a quick smile, inclining her head before turning to leave.

“Inquisition… agent, did you say?” Asala paused, turning back. She guessed she could be called that, sure.

“Asala Adaar,” she supplied and the Warden gave a quick nod.

“The Divine is dead, and the sky is torn,” Blackwall said with a shake of his head. “In events like these… thinking we’re absent is almost as bad as thinking we’re involved.”

Asala frowned. “I wouldn’t go that far, Warden. There are still darkspawn underground, isn’t there? Visible or not, you perform an important duty for the world.” They didn’t have any wardens up in Par Vollen or Seheron but the Qunari knew about the order, even Asala knew some general information about it. The Arishok had travelled with the wardens who ended the most recent Blight after all. Out of all things to come out of the South, the Grey Wardens were one of very few things the Qunari respected due to the dedication and focused purpose.

The man smiled in thanks. “Still… If you’re trying to put things right, maybe you need a warden. Maybe you need me.”

Maybe, yes. Asala would certainly appreciate the addendum personally and maybe Leliana would spot something that neither of them thought important, solving her mystery. Asala smiled warmly at the man. “Warden Blackwall, the Inquisition accepts your offer.”

A short moment was given during which Blackwall collected his travelling gear from the nearby cottage before they set off. They could pass the main camp in the Hinterlands and see if there was any horse available, allowing the warden to easily keep abreast with them as they headed back to Haven. They didn’t get far. An Inquisition scout ran into them, almost literally, but managed to catch himself before he crashed into Asala. He tried to speak immediately but was so out of breath he had to catch it first.

“H-Herald… I’m so glad… I found you,” he gasped out in between sharp intakes of breath where he stood hunched over, hands gripping his knees to keep from falling down.

“Please slow down before you keel over.” The concern was met with a sharp shake of the head.

“No time. Something wrong… near Redcliffe Village. A new rift has appeared and it’s…” For the first time the scout didn’t pause to catch his breath but to try and find the correct words, face helplessly screwing up into a grimace. “We don’t know what’s wrong. It’s different. It isn’t active yet so only one demon has so far been able to push its way out of it but… it does something _else_ to its surroundings.”

Asala felt herself grow colder with each word. No. The Grand Enchanter couldn’t have gone and done something stupid, not this soon after she told the woman off, right? _Please, don’t let it be that,_ Asala prayed. _And, please, don’t let it be irreversible._ She gritted her teeth. “We’ll go immediately.” She turned towards the others. “Warden Blackwall, I hope you won’t mind—”

“No. I wouldn’t have offered my aid otherwise,” the man answered before she even had a chance to finish, his voice clear and sure. Asala smiled gratefully. Another blade was always useful. She didn’t like having to pull along those without magic into matters that were so obviously magical in origin but it couldn’t be helped in this case. She could just hope this rift hadn’t picked up some hitherto unknown ability that affected the mortals of this world. Especially if it couldn’t be guarded or even magically shielded against.

They got to Redcliffe in record time. Probably because, in light of Blackwall not having a horse, Asala shared hers with Solas and the warden took the elf’s horse. The rift was visible almost as soon as the gate to the village came into view because it hovered a good distance off the ground. Asala guessed that the drop wouldn’t do anything adverse to any demon that fell out of it, unfortunately enough. Her hand sparked to life as they got closer, making her horse nervous. It was just as well. The animals would probably just bolt if they were much closer when the rift tore open. They quickly dismounted and took the rest of the short distance at a run. All around them the air seemed to be shimmering at random spots. It was very similar to how heat shimmers off ground or in the distance in near unbearably hot places. It was odd because there seemed to be a discolouration in that shimmer, too. Greens and yellows shaded the surroundings more verdantly or washed them out.

Only a few metres away, the rift sprung to sudden life with a great crackle and a flash. “Spread out!” Asala called as a jolt made her hand twitch harshly. What was _with_ this place!? She was going to have Fiona’s head for this! She refused to believe something like this could happen on its own.

The rift flared and then seemed to elongate, as though it had become syrupy and whatever was pressing against the weak barrier was having trouble getting through… and then it was. The rift exploded in flames that dripped to the ground before taking on shape. Asala hissed at the flaming monstrosity.

“Rage demon,” Solas said with a tight face beside her before he cast a barrier on Blackwall and Asala threw one on Iron Bull as the warriors took on the demon from opposite sides.

“I don’t think my bolts are going to do much here!” Varric warned after his first shot, upon embedding itself in the demon, began to melt.

“Vashedan!” Asala cursed sharply.

“I’m not sure whether to be disturbed or not that I actually know what you’re saying, Herald,” Varric countered with a lopsided smile. Asala simply glared at the demon as Solas threw a low powered ice spell on Blackwall and Iron Bull’s blades to make sure they could actually cut the thing. So far only wraiths, those gaseous, simplest forms of life from the Fade, had proven a problem for anyone with a physical weapon but as there had always been someone present with magic, it hadn’t mattered. And they’d been weak. This thing… it was strong. And it was made of bloody flames!

Asala blinked then snapped around to the other mage. “Put an ice trap on the bolts!” she called. Solas’s gaze remained confused for only half a second before he conjured the magic around the bolt Varric fished out. The projectile whistled off and, upon contact with the demon’s spindly arm, froze the whole appendage as well as parts of its torso. The frozen mass shattered and crumbled as Iron Bull’s axe came down on the almost non-existent shoulder with punishing force, causing the thing to roar. If the sound was one of pain or anger, Asala couldn’t tell and right then didn’t really care anyway. If it got the job done, she was happy. This would hopefully soon be over.

And then the rift exploded again.

Asala cursed as three horrors crashed to the ground, throwing dirt around. She was _so_ going to murder Fiona!

“Vashedan.” Varric’s accent was atrocious but Asala couldn’t do more than agreed.

“Na’thek,” she said shortly even though he wouldn’t understand the words. He was sharp enough to pick up on the intonation, she figured. Besides— One of the horrors suddenly flashed out of existence only to materialise right between Asala and Solas! Both mages threw themselves away as Varric jumped back, having been closer to Asala than the elf. Landing on uneven ground, Asala rolled a few steps before getting her feet back under her again and coming up in a crouch. And, shit, she was right in one of those pockets of shimmering air! All around her, the world seemed to slow down. She needed— A curse from Varric had her attention snapping towards the dwarf. There were too many physically active demons on the field for only two warriors. One horror had gone to join the rage demon while the second was trying its best to get through Solas’s barrier. The third, the one that had shifted into place between them, had just followed and stabbed Varric right between the pectoral muscle and the collarbone as he’d been loading up Bianca.

“Varric!” Asala gritted her teeth. “As-eb vashe-qalab,” she cursed as she drew forth power in her free hand and sent the energy barrage flying. It sped off at an unnatural speed, crashing into the walking target. Why was the demon walking? Asala blinked once, hard, and threw her eyes around. A bit away, a tree was moving in the breeze. Moving way too slow for a breeze at that. Pushing herself forward, she freed herself from the shimmering air and suddenly the world seemed to speed up again. Or… It wasn’t the world that had sped up. _She_ had slowed down! Bleeding unthinkable… Deciding to risk it, Asala jumped a step back, ending up in the shimmer air once more. If it could be used then so be it. She didn’t like it, didn’t know anything about it!, but right now she’d take the advantage.

Throwing a barrier around the dwarf, she threw another offensive spell at the back of the demon Solas was battling. The two front assault quickly took it down, allowing Asala to focus on the horror trying to get through to Varric and Solas to aid the two warriors who’d managed to take down the rage demon. It took a short while but at last all demons were dust and Asala dragged herself over to the rift. Opening the mark in her hand, she pulled harshly on the rift. The familiar burn of magic running through her hand flared to life as the tear mended. As the last bits of energy flew from the air, she jerked back her now fisted hand before whirling to confront her companions. Varric was keeping pressure on his wound and almost looked like he wished to back up a step as she stalked towards him. Asala realised she must have a rather angry scowl upon her face but couldn’t make herself calm, not right now. Not with what had just happened. As she healed the dwarf’s wound, as well as a slash Blackwall had been unable to block on his leg, she recounted her discovery to Solas.

The elf looked as if he didn’t want to believe it. “It sounds like temporal disruptions.”

“How about you speak Common, Solas?” Iron Bull told the elf with a frown.

“Magic disturbed the flow of time, speeding it up around Asala. It’s possible it could also have slowed it down instead,” the mage explained more in-depth. Asala wasn’t about to repeat exactly what the other Qunari said but she kind of agreed with it.

“What could have caused it?” she demanded tightly as she stood up, finally done with her two companions. Iron Bull had preferred to grab a healing potion for the burn the rage demon had dealt him on his lower arm. She accepted that. He was Qunari after all.

“I’m sorry to say I’ve not seen anything like it in this age. I don’t think anyone has. I can’t begin to guess.” Solas’s confession didn’t help Asala’s mood.

“Then let’s go find out,” she ground out as she headed towards the still closed gates to the village. When it didn’t rise upon their approach, Asala glared up at the nearby watch tower. “Open the gate! The demons are gone and the Inquisition has official business to see to in Redcliffe.” It wasn’t really official but Asala was _really_ tired of the shit at this point. A guard came out of the tower and, looking around uncertainly at the ground, as though he thought she hadn’t spoken truly, frowned at her.

“Business with whom?”

Asala snapped. “If you don’t open the gate this _instant_ , demons will be the _least_ of your problems, ataash-raas dathrasi-vashedan defransdim!” she snarled. The man up on the wall jumped, almost falling over his own feet, before hurrying back inside the tower. The gate began rising almost before the tower door had time to slam shut. Asala didn’t care. She was fuming!

“Woah! Boss…” Asala froze. No. “That’s harsh.” No! Heat exploded in her face. She usually didn’t curse too harshly, even in Qunlat, but for a second she’d forgotten _he_ was there. For weeks upon weeks it’d just been her and now…

“I didn’t know Qunari could get that red.” Varric’s comment didn’t help the matter in the least as Asala felt like even her ears had begun to burn. If a rift opened up beneath her feet right then and there, she wouldn’t have minded it too much. The gate made a loud clang as it reached the top a bit too fast. Asala set off at a swift clip. Maybe if she walked fast, the wind would cool her face…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Vashedan – Crap  
> Na’thek – As you wish (or a confirmatory statement)  
> As-eb vashe-qalab – This is bullshit  
> Ataash-raas dathrasi-vashedan defransdim – useless pig-excrement(ed on) privates
> 
> A quick note on the Valo-Kas:  
> I know that in conversation with Josephine, we get to know that apparently Adaar was under a man called "Tully" before joining the Inquisition and there's no evidence of Adaar ever being part of another company than the Valo-Kas. However, in all correspondance with your company via the war table, you deal with Shokrakar, something I always wondered about. For that reason, I felt it prudent to note; I'm ignoring Tully. (Sorry, Tully! Haha.) It might be he's a Vashoth, like the pc, or a really well-acclimatised Tal-Vashoth but I decided to go with what the war table tells us.


	14. Chapter 14

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Inquisition enters Redcliffe to confront the mage rebellion about the weird magic present in the village. What they find is something entirely unexpected.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The prerequisite plot for In Hushed Whispers will soon be done and a choice will be made.

Just beyond the gate they were met by an Inquisition scout but it didn’t lighten Asala’s mood. He looked as though he didn’t have any good news.

“Your Worship, we’ve spread word the Inquisition was coming, but you should know that no one here were expecting us,” he told them with a shake of his head. Asala stared.

“What? That can’t be right. Not even the Grand Enchanter?”

The scout shrugged, brow creasing in annoyance at the situation. He’d probably dealt with the worst of it already, being the first on site. “If she was, she hasn’t told anyone. We’ve arranged use of the tavern for the negotiations.”

Asala nodded while glaring at the road ahead. This was just… What _was_ happening here? A youth, barely older than Sera if Asala was any judge, was hurrying towards them. “Agents of the Inquisition, my apologies!” he said with a careful and just slightly nervous smile. His nervosity could either be from dealing with unexpected strangers all alone or because he recognised or at least took a guess at whom she was. It was a 50-50 chance. Asala supressed her glare into a frown. The boy didn’t deserve her ire. _Someone_ else did and she was going to get hold of that person. Soon. She almost missed his next words due to her dark thoughts. “Magister Alexius is in charge now, but hasn’t yet arrived.”

“M… A magister?” she spluttered and could hear Iron Bull grumble something behind her but it was too low for her to pick up on exactly what he said. At least it’d been in Qunlat.

The youth’s nervosity kicked up just slightly. “Y-yes. He’s expected shortly but you can speak to the former Grand Enchanter in the meantime if you wish. She would be able to tell you more. She’ll be at the tavern, the Gull and Lantern, shortly.”

Oh, she was definitely going to speak to the Grand Enchanter about this development. Blood and chaos! “Thank you,” she said with curt nod. The boy seemed relieved to be released and quickly left, completely missing Asala’s glare and gritted teeth.

“Something is definitely not right here,” Blackwall muttered behind her. Asala turned around.

“Warden Blackwall, I apologise. You seem to have been thrown into the deep end rather abruptly. We did not expect this as we met the Grand Enchanter in Val Royeaux.”

The man shook his head. “No need to apologise, Adaar. I don’t mind being active.” The smile tugging at one corner of Asala's mouth was laxed with bitter irony. If he didn't mind, he certainly seemed to be in the right place.

The path into the village led past a huge but broken windmill and ended at the docks. Great bodies of water usually instilled Asala with some peace and listening to the people around them talking might reveal something. They were just going to pass the place before heading up to the tavern but a distant conversation caught Asala’s ear. Casting a searching look about the docks, she finally spotted the conversing pair at the end of it. Was that truly…? And then the older man spoke the younger’s name. Asala had read books on recent history when she first came to the South, both to train her Common and to familiarise herself with the land. It’d also been hard to miss news about the Blight when it was ongoing and shortly after it ended, even up in Par Vollen.

“Excuse me, but… are you Connor Guerrin?” Both the men turned towards her and then the younger nodded, his face grave.

“Did you… know anyone in Redcliffe? I don’t think I’ve met a Qunari before,” he asked her uncertainly, obviously expecting another person to condemn him for actions a decade old. He was clearly still condemning himself after all. The older man beside him, obviously a mage, too, gave the youth an encouraging smile, squeezing his shoulder quickly before leaving.

“I didn’t. I just didn’t know you were here,” Asala explained. The boy cast his eyes out over the placid waters, his whole visage a frown.

“Yes, here, the last place any mage should be,” he replied bitterly. “I can’t believe the king allowed us to come here. He saw what happened at Redcliffe himself! He grew up here.” He turned his gaze back onto Asala again. “I mean, it was nice of him to offer refuge, but… I don’t think the people wanted me, or anyone like me, in this town ever again. If it wasn’t for me…” The boy gritted his teeth and silence blanketed the air for a second. “If not for me, every family in this village wouldn’t be missing a son, a daughter, a spouse.”

“You were possessed.”

Connor’s eyes rose to stare uncomprehendingly at her. “That doesn’t—”

“Mean it’s not your fault?” Asala finished before he could. “Yes. It does mean it wasn’t your fault.”

“But I let the demon in,” he argued weakly.

“And why were you even at risk to the demon?” she asked rhetorically. “Your powers were discovered long before your father fell ill, were they not?”

“Y-yes,” he answered her but looked as though he wished not to.

“And it was your mother who refused to let this be known as it would result in you being taken away, was it not? She acquired you a tutor who wasn’t good enough at his own craft, am I correct?” The boy only nodded weakly this time. Asala heaved a sigh. She’d read about this. There hadn’t been much said about the mage arlessa Isolde Guerrin had hired except for that he was a blood mage. A woman who refused to do what was best for her child and a man unfit to teach… She shook her head. “You didn’t fail. Your mother did. The man meant to teach you failed, too, but he wouldn’t have mattered unless your mother hadn’t failed her duty.”

“But she—”

“Sacrificed herself to perform a ritual of questionable means and success rate. Whatever the outcome of that ritual, she had failed long before it became relevant. She was the arlessa, the person meant to aid the arl in ruling the arling.” At least that’s what she’d understood of the role. One was the de facto overseer of the region and the other the aide. Who was who depended upon who was born into the family, taught the duty from childhood, and who learnt it after marrying into the family. “She should have thought of what the arling needed and as a mother she should have thought of what you needed. She failed twice.” There was a lot more she could’ve said but refrained, remembering Iron Bull’s presence. As silence descended upon them once again, it became clear the boy wasn’t about to argue with her. Asala gave him a gentle smile. What she really wanted was to reach out and touch his head or shoulder, a physical affirmation of her words, but she wasn’t sure if it was the best thing to do right now. Had she been alone with him…

“All that death and destruction…” Asala blinked. It had taken Connor a good while to muster up a last, half-hearted denial but he’d managed. She shook her head adamantly.

“That was the demon. The dead do not rise lest something has taken hold of it or is trapped within. No mortal, mage or otherwise, has the power to make the dead rise without that criteria fulfilled,” she told him, voice as unwavering as it was kind. She wasn’t an expert on this matter, didn’t know more about it than that it was possible, but was fairly certain of what she’d just said. Once dead, the soul fled and then the body was just an empty shell. It would _not_ rise on its own. There was no logical sense to it and even magic seemed to confirm this. At least she’d gathered that much from speaking with Cassandra about her uncle and his… nauseating and questionable duties.

Connor nodded slowly. “I… thank you.” Asala smiled gently at him again. Her words may have reached him, or at least made him think about it. She didn’t mind it taking time as long as he did think about what she’d said and took it to heart. After so many years of thinking one way, of blaming himself… It was expected to take time for that to change.

“Learn from what you’ve experienced and don’t make the mistake others have,” she concluded, smile growing somewhat brighter. The boy gave her a nod and a tiny smile. It wasn’t much but it was something and that, in itself, was a lot. “We must go now. We’re here to speak to the Grand Enchanter.” At that, Connor started.

“If you can, please get us out of this deal. The magister… It’s wrong. All of this, what they do in Tevinter, it’s wrong.” It didn’t get much closer to begging than that and it pulled on her heart with a harsh jerk. This boy… how many more of his age, or worse, younger, were here? Here with the mage rebellion. The fact that Connor was, a boy not even out of his teens, had to mean there could be others, too, and that was troubling. You couldn’t deal with children and youths the same way you did adults. They were fundamentally different. Fiona had proven bad at controlling adults so far and Asala didn’t want to know how much worse the elf could be at dealing with children. Obviously no one had dealt with Connor the proper way during the decade since the Blight. That however, she acquiesced, was most likely not the Grand Enchanter’s fault personally.

“I will.” She knew she shouldn’t promise anything, especially since as soon as she’d met with Fiona, she was most likely off to meet with the templars, but she… _couldn’t_ tell him an outright no. Couldn’t leave him without something positive.

“Thank you.” The boy gave her the first true smile since meeting her and, Asala guessed, the first in a _very_ long time. “I don’t want to see anyone else end up… like _them_.”

“Like who?” Asala frowned and Connor’s pale brown eyes darted towards something almost behind her before quickly coming back to her.

“Like the…” His voice went low and his eyes horrified. “The Tranquil. That house behind you, it holds the truth. The lock is a magical one. It won’t open unless you’re a mage. It’s…” He shuddered and looked away before rubbing at his arms. “I don’t want to go to Tevinter, become like _them_.” Asala frowned but didn’t perform the very obvious action of turning around and looking at the building in question.

“You won’t become like them.” This was a promise she felt comfortable and confident in giving. Connor knew the dangers of magic and the worth of self-control and moderation. As long as he didn’t forget what losing either could do, he’d be fine, of that she was sure. “We need to go now. Stay strong,” she told him with a quick smile. “I want to see the inside of that house,” she declared in a low, determined voice as soon as they were out of earshot of the youth. No one argued and it was a good question if it was because of her tone of voice or due to the boy’s reaction. A quick estimation by Solas upon the lock’s nature and how to open it was given before they reached the building. Asala knocked on the door but if anyone was in there, she wasn’t about to wait for them. Lowering her hand to the keyhole, she summoned a wisp of arcane energies and pushed it into the hole. A soft click resounded in her ears and she gave a gentle nod before pushing the door open. The hallway right inside was sparsely decorated to the point of not at all. The air appeared to hum and whisper with the building’s ward, still active despite the lock being opened. It even increased, slowly but surely, with every step. Obviously, whatever happened in here wasn’t meant to be noticed from the outside. Asala rounded the corner into the large, single room that made up the building and stopped.

She couldn’t move.

The murmur was almost discernible now, each whisper almost words.

“Hey, boss, you’re gonna have to— shiiit.” Iron Bull’s voice sounded like it came from far away but she could feel the heat from his body right behind her. The murmur moved around her, like water moves around a rock in the river. Her marked hand kept pulsating in time with it.

“All of these skulls came from Tranquils.” Solas had passed them and moved up to a nearby table with a journal on it, skimming the pages as he spoke. She hadn’t seen him move there. All she could see and hear were the skulls stacked in rows upon rows on shelves lining the opposite wall. “Asala…?” She couldn’t tear her eyes away from the skulls. They seemed to inch closer at a snail’s pace, as though her vision was narrowing down to a single point or she was moving closer and she _didn’t_ want to get any closer. _Why_ were the whispers bordering on discernible? _Why_ could she almost hear the horrified screams!?

“Are you all—?” The sudden touch of a hand upon her arm startled her and she fell backwards into something. It was sturdy and didn’t move an inch. When a pair of big hands grabbed hold of her upper arms she knew she’d stumbled into Iron Bull, that didn’t keep her knees from trying to give up under her weight. She just couldn’t tear her eyes from the skulls and her hand pulsed and—

“…out of… here,” she choked out as Solas face came into view, blocking out the skulls. “Get me... out…” She clamped her teeth together but couldn’t force her eyes shut. She didn’t want to hear the skulls any longer. She had to— She apparently didn’t need to say any more because the room was suddenly moving and then the sun invaded her eyes. She felt spares grass and moss under her rear a moment later and her view had dropped. Iron Bull must have hauled her outside and sat her down on the ground, she realised dazedly. Solas was suddenly crouching in front of her, too, a worried frown on his face. He reached out and touched the side of her head with a hand. She could feel the cool, soothing energy enveloping it.

“How are you feeling?”

Whispers, like hazy dreams evaporating in the morning sun, flitted around in her head. She couldn’t discern them anymore but the echoes from the ones inside the house were still there at the back of her mind. She blinked slowly and took a moment to simply breathe. “I want… those skulls smashed,” she finally answered the other mage. It felt like she’d run for half a day straight and was trying to speak. Worst thing, she wasn’t even sure if that was just another whisper from inside the house or solely her own thought.

“Here.” Varric leaned down beside her, holding out a water skin. “Maybe you should have a drink. Sorry, I don’t have anything stronger,” he added with a wry grin. Asala managed a very weak smile as she slowly accepted the offering and brought it to her lips.

“I’d wondered what became of those poor souls when the circles collapsed. Now we know.” Blackwall was standing not too far behind Varric, shaking his head.

“It’s a tragic waste,” Solas agreed quietly as he finally lowered his hands from her face. “I assume you heard something in that hut, too.” It wasn’t a question. It would’ve been stupid to make it one. Asala nodded.

“Whispers… Just a touch out of reach. Couldn’t make them out and yet…” After a second of silence she realised she’d been staring blankly at the elf’s jawbone pendant. She blinked and raised her eyes to meet his. “Did you…?”

Solas shook his head. “Nothing more than a faint murmur. Your mark may be enhancing whatever it was. It is another thing to question the Grand Enchanter about.” Asala blinked then groaned. They had to go to the tavern. Giving the skin back to Varric, she braced one hand against the wall behind her while Solas grabbed the other arm and helped her to her feet.

“Honestly, I’m rather hoping she _doesn’t_ know about this because if she did and allowed it…” Varric trailed off with a shudder. If she did, Asala agreed, it was worse than bad.

She didn’t allow them to linger by the docks, not even for her to recover. She drew upon her self-control and by the time they could see the tavern, she was walking like normal. She didn’t feel much better but there wasn’t much time to waste and staying in Redcliffe was just not something she desired right now. Besides, they needed her to be able to have this meeting now. She also wanted to meet the Grand Enchanter before that magister got here. She did what she had to.

Pushing the door to the tavern open revealed a large, dimly lit room with a lot of people. The windows weren’t small but partially shuttered and didn’t allow for much ventilation, causing the smoke from torches and the smell of food and drink to linger. Conversation, interspersed with laughter and backdropped by a bard’s lute and song, flowed naturally. It was almost odd how easy the atmosphere was due to the unrest that plagued the rest of the land. They drew a few glances as they entered, most likely due to Iron Bull and herself, Asala assumed, but the stares were short-lived. At the back of the tavern, a lithe but mature elf with short, dark hair and a mage’s robes stepped forward. Asala didn’t need more light to recognise the woman.

“Welcome, agents of the Inquisition,” Fiona said as they came closer. She regarded them carefully out of pale eyes. “What has brought you to Redcliffe?”

Asala stared.

Was the woman daft or going senile far too early? Incredulity quickly made way for ire and her brows dipped in a frown bordering dangerously close to a glare. “You know why we’re here. You travelled all the way to Val Royeaux to invite us.” _And has sincerely given us a rapidly increasing number of reasons to speak to you since then_ , Asala added silently. She was in no mood to play games with the Grand Enchanter.

Fiona frowned lightly and Asala could tell the woman was trying to figure out what the problem was without causing further ire. She had a difficult task before her. “I fear you must be mistaken. I haven’t been to Val Royeaux since before the Conclave.” Asala’s frown deepened into a true scowl. And she was off to a bad start, if Asala had any say in it.

“I came here with very little patience and have since lost most of it. Just after the templars left Val Royeaux, you came forward and asked us here,” Asala retorted not too happily.

“The Templars _left_ Val Royeaux?” The Grand Enchanter looked sincerely surprised. “Where did they go? That sounds—” The woman halted and frowned before shaking her head, as though trying to focus on the question caused even greater confusion. “Why does that sound so strange?” she mumbled to herself before meeting Asala’s hard gaze once more. “Whoever… or _what_ ever, brought you here, the situation has changed,” she replied with a touch of true remorse lacing her Orlesian accent. “The free mages have already… _pledged_ themselves to the service of the Tevinter Imperium.”

Asala wasn’t the only one to stare.

“This right here is why you can't trust mages,” Iron Bull grumbled somewhere nearby, making Asala wish to nod but… she was a mage, too. Beside her, Varric shook his head slowly.

“Andraste's ass... I'm trying to think of a single worse you could have done, and I've got nothing.” A lot of bad shit had been happening in and around Redcliffe and the Hinterlands lately but Asala supposed she had to agree with the dwarf. At least until she could find out what the bleeding chaos was up with the rift they closed earlier.

“I understand that you are afraid, but you deserve better than slavery to Tevinter.” The Grand Enchanter simply shook her head sadly at Solas’s words.

“It cannot be helped now.”

“Don’t give me that garbage!” Asala hissed as she took a quick step forward, glaring at the elf. Fiona’s eyes hardened slightly but the reaction was only momentarily, then she let it go. The damned woman was resigned to her fate! Asala grit her teeth. Utterly idiotic—!

“As one indentured to a magister, I no longer have the authority to negotiate with you.” Asala couldn’t agree more. A person with no wits about them should certainly not negotiate with anyone and much less negotiate on behalf of others!

“You’ve made a terrible mistake,” Asala said with a sharp shake of her head. Fiona closed her eyes and released a heavy sigh.

“All hope of peace died with Justinia.” Meeting the Qunari’s eyes again, she flourished her hands helplessly. “This… bargain with Tevinter would not have been my first choice, but we had no choice.”

“You had ample choices!” Asala hissed back angrily. At long last, Fiona glared back.

“We were _losing_ this war. I needed to save as many of my people as I could.” She finished with a sad shake oh her head.

“Save? Is that what you call it? You saved the Tranq—” The door opening suddenly, fairly loudly, and a breeze of magical energy sweeping into the room caused Asala to stop abruptly and turn around. The man walking in through the door was clearly not from Ferelden.

“Welcome, my friends!” His Tevinter accented Common only proved the initial assumption further. “I apologise for not greeting you earlier.” He sounded friendly and apologetic but Asala wasn’t about to lower her guard.

“Agents of the Inquisition, allow me to introduce magister Gereon Alexius.” Fiona’s tone was neutral enough that Asala couldn’t tell what the woman felt but due to previous conversation, she could take a guess. She nodded tersely at the Tevinter who reciprocated a lot more smoothly.

“The southern mages are under my command. And you are the survivor, yes? The one from the Fade? Interesting.” His brows dipped slightly as he studied her, as though she was quite intriguing. Asala’s scowl refused to budge.

“Tevinter hardly has stellar relations with its neighbours. It begs the question how you received permission to be here, much less how you have any authority to _act_ in Ferelden,” she bit out harshly, crossing her arms over her chest.

The man smiled faintly. “Tevinter does not have many permanent exchanges with the southern nations, no. However, as I have understood, you are no Fereldan either.”

“What I, personally, am hardly matters. The Inquisition isn’t bound by a nation and that which it fights threatens all. You, however, have taken quite a few liberties during your stay as I’ve understood it.” They’d heard people discussing the arl’s sudden departure, if one wished to be that polite about it. “The Inquisition is here due to the magical disturbances that have been witnessed in the area, and…” Asala cast a quick but hard glance at the Grand Enchanter, “I would like to know when exactly you arrived here, Alexius.” If any of her companions noticed her change in how she usually addressed people, they didn’t say anything and Asala would be damned if she gave this man the time of day. She could feel fangs growing for every minute spent in his company. If she suddenly sprouted wings and scales and coughed up a fireball, she wouldn’t be surprised.

“Certainly,” the man said far too amicably with a magnanimous gesture of his hand towards an empty table and chairs. “Shall we take a seat maybe?” He didn’t really wait for her answer and for a second, Asala simply glared before reining in the venom building in her throat and joining the man. “When the Conclave was destroyed, these poor souls faced the brutality of the templars, who rushed to attack them,” he said before casting a mild smile at the Grand Enchanter. “It could only be through divine providence that I arrived when I did.”

Fiona seemed to struggle with her expression but managed a neutral face but the hints of… something put a strain on her voice. “It was certainly… very timely,” she agreed with a small nod. It was worse than timely, Asala felt.

“And when will you be leaving then?” she asked with an as controlled voice as she could manage. If the mages was all he was here for, then he apparently had them now and could go the damned chaos home. In that express moment, Asala wouldn’t mind it if the problem was solved that way.

“Ah, yes, as soon as my business here is concluded. Although I have heard the Inquisition is trying to close the tear in the Veil and now you are here. Magic is the only way to combat magic, after all.”

“There are hundreds of ways to combat anything in this world,” Asala snarked back.

“Maybe,” Alexius agreed, inclining his head, “but none so effective.” He turned his attention towards a young man who’d arrived with him. “Felix, would you send for a scribe, please?” The magister gave Asala a faintly apologetic smile. “Pardon my manners. My son Felix, friends.” The young man took a bow, features carefully arranged and politely neutral, before turning to do his father’s bidding. “To continue, I must say that effectiveness is the key when dealing with something so extraordinary and rare as a tear in the Veil. Sealing the Breach is a feat not many could attempt. There is no telling how many mages, or amount of magic, would be needed for such an endeavour.” He sounded as if it was natural, as though it was given for them to come here. It was infuriating, his arrogance and casual treatment of magic.

“And you don’t consider how unpredictable the Breach could become by pushing more magic into it from this side?” Was he really that blind? It felt like a redundant question; he was Tevinter!

“When you know how to handle it, it isn’t dangerous. You—” He suddenly stopped and turned in his seat. Asala frowned and turned her attention as well to see what had caused the worried look upon the man’s face. The young man, Felix, had returned but he appeared to be moving haltingly as though unwell. As he moved closer, Asala stood up only for Felix to suddenly tilt forward and crash right into her. She stumbled backwards under his weight but didn’t lose her footing as she caught him. She tensed when his hand came down on her, feeling something dry that he pressed into her marked palm, the one farthest away from Alexius. Was that… paper?

“Felix!”

At his father’s worried voice, the object was pressed harder into her hand and she finally closed her fist around it. A moment later, he began to pull back and right himself. Asala frowned as she helped him upright. “I’m so sorry. Please forgive my clumsiness, my lady.” His voice was apologetic but his face appeared twisted as though in discomfort or slight pain. Alexius was at his side quickly.

“Are you all right?”

The young man shook his head. “I’m fine, father.” The words didn’t seem to move Alexius though.

“Come, I’ll get your powders,” he insisted as he motioned towards the door. “Please excuse me, friends,” he said distractedly as he began ushering his son towards the exit, not even sparing them a glance. “We will have to continue this another time. Fiona, I require your assistance back at the castle,” he added as he passed the elf who could do naught but nod and follow. His son made another apology as the door was held open for him. Alexius paused briefly in the doorway. “I shall send word to the Inquisition. We will conclude this business at a later date.”

He didn’t stay long enough to see the annoyed frown Asala threw his way. Once the door closed, she opened her hand and unfolded the small piece of paper hidden there. She frowned at it as she read. “It would appear the son, Felix, wishes to meet in the chantry.”

“Is that all it says?” Varric asked doubtfully.

“That and that I’m in danger,” Asala replied drily, adding on a shrug.

“That seems so… anticlimactic,” the dwarf complained.

“What will you do?” Asala glanced at Solas who was studying her calmly. She heaved a sigh. She remembered his words to Fiona mere minutes ago but really couldn’t make herself care.

“You know what I think of this matter.”

“But?”

She grimaced. “At the same time, there’s something going on here. The templars aren’t doing their job investigating it and it involves rifts, so…” She really wished she could care less and not feel it was the Inquisition’s job to look into this stuff when others weren’t doing theirs. Closing her eyes, she opened her senses to the mark and its energies. The whole damned village and surrounding area was jumping with green flames. One minute they were there, the next not, and the next they were there but fainter and then not. It was as though rifts were threatening to rip open everywhere but at the last minute decided that “nope, too much of a bother” and fizzed out swiftly. She’d done the same very shortly just after the rift outside the gates had been closed just to make sure they didn’t have another to deal with. The jumping scene had been disturbing and since there weren’t any active tears anywhere, she’d decided to focus on healing and get hold of Fiona quickly. So far, she didn’t have any damned answer for—

Asala froze in the middle of turning her head, eyes snapping open. “There’s another rift nearby,” she quickly informed them before heading towards the door. She really wanted to just leave but if those things kept popping open every so often, there was no telling how many would have appeared by the time she reached Haven again. She considered storming the castle and dragging the answers out of the Grand Enchanter and the magister. Maybe it would be worth the pain and the censure such abrasive action would surely incite according to Josephine.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What do you mean, I don't like Isolde? Of course I do. Everybody loves Isolde. (Just like Anora.) Teagaaaan! Haha.  
> Asala's opinion of the Ferelden circle tower dips very low. Connor needed a child shrink.
> 
> So, apparently I DID decide to touch upon the oculara but no more than this. That house is so damned creepy.  
> As we know from the world of Thedas, no one really know where exactly the souls of the dead go. The only hint we have is that they pass through the Fade, if what the elves believed was anything to go on, but where they ended up, no one knows. I imagined the mark gives the Inquisitor a connection to the Fade. Since an ocularum is made from a forced possession of a Tranquil who's been slain immediately, I decided to see the skulls as prisons for both the soul of the Tranquil as well as the demon that possessed them. Rather disturbing but no one ever said the Venatori were anything else. And why Asala has never experienced this before? They never went close to any ocularum before and she's not likely to after this point either. Maybe she'll send in Bull to play golf with skulls and his weapon.
> 
> I wanted to have someone give Asala a skin of whiskey or something but none of them struck me as the type to go that alcoholic during these troubled times. So, Varric got to joke about it instead.


	15. Chapter 15

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> More Tevinters are encountered and a choice is made.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A note in relation to the last chapter; I guess I could have had Asala speak to Linnea in the tavern but I assume the mage heard enough of Asala's thoughts to not speak to her. And, well, if Asala had opened a dialogue with her... I fear she would very quickly have either wished or performed bodily harm upon the woman. Oops.

It didn’t take long to find the chantry and as soon as one of the heavy doors opened even a crack, they could hear the sound of fighting from inside. “Shut the door tightly behind us,” Asala quickly warned Bull before slipping inside as he would have the easiest time with the huge thing. The inside was dimly lit by tall, oil-burning cressets, candles and, covering the upper back wall of the chancel, stained glass windows, intermingling warm and cold light throughout the building. That is what it normally would have looked like. Currently, there was a rift spilling its neutral green light from the middle of the nave upon floor, walls, pillars and the rather Tevinter garbed man blasting a shade to pieces. Iron Bull pulled the door shut with a heavy thud as the demon’s body splintered into energy and was sucked back into the rift. The noise must have alerted the man for he turned around and gave a jolly smile.

“Good! You’re finally here. Now help me close this, would you?” he asked cheerily, much too cheerily for someone stuck fighting off demons on his own, if Asala had any say in it.

“Who are you?” Asala asked as she hurried closer, staff in hand, and the rift began to pulse. Opening up the mark on her hand, she pulled on the energies surrounding the rift.

“Ah, yes, I am— look out!” Asala tore her eyes away from the man and back to the rift just as a gangly terror pushed its way out of the energies and landed on the floor. Damn it! She hadn’t been fast enough, or pulled harshly enough on the Fade energies to begin closing it in time. It didn’t take long to take it down though, despite a ghostly wraith making it out of the rift, too. The pockets of temporal distortion barely had time to manifest before it was all over, something Asala was grateful for. The mere existence of them was troubling, not to mention what they could do to the flow of a fight. As soon as both demons were down, she wasted no time on closing the rift. It went out with a minor explosion due to her swift, forceful pull on the power at its core. Shaking her stinging hand, she turned back to the white robed man once again. He was studying the fast fading Fade energies with attentive eyes.

“Fascinating. How does that work, exactly?” he asked as he turned to meet her gaze.

“I…” They had discussed that, Solas and her, but there were no perfect theories, only vague guesses so far. If it worked, it worked, as far as she was concerned. A good-natured chuckle escaped the man as he smiled at her.

“You don’t even know, do you?” He sounded amused and not in the least degrading but was obviously Tevtiner, his accent matching that of Alexius and Felix. “You just wiggle your fingers and—boom!” he said while doing exactly that with his own digits in the air. “Rift closes. You are truly handy to have around,” he concluded with a smile.

“Who… are you?”

“Ah, of course. You did ask that, didn’t you? My apologies. Getting ahead of myself again, I see. Dorian of House Pavus, most recently of Minrathous,” he replied with a simple but elegantly executed bow. “How do you do?”

“Watch yourself,” Iron Bull grumbled none too silently behind her. “The pretty ones are always the worst.”

Dorian grinned amusedly. “Suspicious friends you have here,” he remarked without spite.

“Considering recent events,” Asala said as she tilted her head to the side. Dorian nodded.

“Too true, but before we get off track again; the reason why I asked you here.”

“That note was yours?” Asala asked with a frown. From the short exchange so far, she would have expected someone less… extrovert.

“Indeed. Magister Alexius was once my mentor, so my assistance should be valuable – as I’m sure you can imagine.” That did explain why _he_ was here but not why someone else wasn’t.

“I was expecting the… Felix.” She didn’t know what to call the young man except for his name, which was a bit odd. Few others were applied the same form of address. For instance, the only reason she addressed Solas by his name alone was due to their relationship as tutor and student after all.

“I’m sure he’s on his way,” Dorian replied with a light frown, one side of his mouth stretching in a display of faint disapproval or worry, Asala couldn’t say. He cast his eyes at the door behind them for a second before shaking his head slightly and looking back to her again. “He was to give you the note, then meet us here after ditching his father.” The almost flippant delivery of the explanation made the whole affair sound like that of youths trying to sneak away from their duties or studies to spend time making merry instead. Then again, seeing the magister’s reaction to his son’s acting…

“He’s had some lingering illness for months,” Dorian confirmed when she inquired about it. He didn’t look too pleased. “Felix is an only child, and Alexius is being a mother hen, most likely.”

“And healing?” Asala couldn’t help the question. It wasn’t so much that the man appeared to want to aid them as her somewhat understanding the magister’s position.

Dorian shook his head. “As far as I know, it hasn’t helped. At least not yet.” In other words, it wasn’t anything to worry about right now when there were other, greater problems at hand.

“Was it you who sent the note then?”

“I did,” Dorian replied with a nod before finishing with a wry smile, “someone had to warn you, after all.” Then he frowned. “Look, you must know there’s danger. That should be obvious even without the note.”

“If you’ve got an explanation for the sudden rifts in the area, despite the region as a whole being stabilised, and those… pockets of energy, I’m listening.” She’d take his words with a pinch of salt for sure, but she’d listen. At least until she knew if he truly meant to help. Iron Bull had been right on that one; the pretty ones were always the worst and there were two fairly pretty people in this room. One had his sincerity in question and the other… She hoped no one knew how much untruth she was flinging around.

“I do.” Dorian didn’t look too cheerful anymore. “Let’s start with Alexius claiming the allegiance of the mage rebels out from under you, as if by magic, yes?”

“We’re here to look into the rifts appearing and now also this weird side effect,” Asala interrupted the man. Dorian raised both brows at that but the surprise was short-lived and he gave a quick nod before continuing.

“Well, either way, they’re all connected.” Asala grit her teeth at that. It was _not_ what she wanted to hear but honestly what she had expected. Damn it! “To reach Redcliffe before the Inquisition, Alexius distorted time itself.”

Asala stared. Behind her, she could hear Iron Bull curse in Qunlat. She mutely agreed with his sentiment. “I… Please tell me that’s less dangerous than it sounds?” She wasn’t one for begging but this was fairly close. Dorian’s sad shake of the head didn’t give her much hope though.

“More.”

Asala groaned. “That is fascinating, if true… and almost certainly dangerous,” Solas remarked. Asala was willing to bet it was more than just “almost”.

Dorian nodded in agreement at the elf. “The rift you closed here?” he reminded them as he turned his attention back onto her. Did she even _want_ to know? “You saw how it twisted time around itself, sped some things up and slowed others down. Soon there will be more like it, and they’ll appear further and further away from Redcliffe.” Asala felt a headache begin to build somewhere in the back of her head. The Grand Enchanter had gone and done more than just invite trouble. It suddenly felt like she didn’t have a curse handy that could cover exactly what she thought of the situation. Dorian’s next words didn’t help the matter in the least. “The magic Alexius is using is wildly unstable, and it’s unravelling the world.”

Asala gave up and massaged a temple. “Please tell me you’re being overly dramatic in hopes of making me more interested or worried about this,” she demanded but didn’t have much faith in the answer being in her favour.

“I know what I’m talking about. I helped develop this magic,” the mage replied with a somewhat annoyed expression. Asala started and then stared at him.

“You what?”

Dorian’s frown deepened, as if to say “do shut up and let me finish”. He’d have to finish with a damned good explanation if Asala was to listen to another word of his. “When I was still his apprentice, it was pure theory,” Dorian argued. “Alexius could never get it to work.” He sounded particularly adamant about that, as though the results had eaten at the magister and he’d been there to see the despair and anger first hand. He was either really good at performing, Asala confessed, or his words were all true. The fact that he’d given much, and apparently still had a lot to give, spoke for him being sincere in his wish to aid them though.

“What I don’t understand is why he’s doing it?” Dorian said with an annoyed frown that was more directed at his former mentor than anyone present. “Ripping time to shreds just to gain a few hundred lackeys?” He made an offhand gesture, indicating what he thought of the cost and the return of the action. For a man from Tevinter, a place where manpower, and especially those with magic, meant a lot, he was certainly proving to be the exception that confirmed the rule. Behind them, the sound of a door closing softly echoed.

“He didn’t do it for them.” They all turned to see Felix striding towards them, alone and not ill.

“Took you long enough,” Dorian greeted him with a smile and a nod before frowning. “Is he getting suspicious?”

Felix shook his head. “No, but I shouldn’t have played the illness card. I thought he’d be fussing over me all day.” Asala remembered some of her charges, early on at least, having tried that and she always called them on it. Unless she could tell that getting out of something or the other wasn’t their goal. Sometimes children just needed you there, showing that you cared no matter how inconvenient it may be perceived. In the case of the latter, she’d always played along with them. Unless it was something more serious that could benefit from being sorted properly and not just a bit of extra attention.

“My father’s joined cult. Tevinter supremacists,” Felix continued as he turned to Asala. “They call themselves ‘Venatori’.”

“We’ve never heard of them before,” she replied with a shake of her head. This was troubling but at least they had a name, that was something. Leliana could certainly find something if she had _some_ idea of what she was looking for and the sooner they could determine how dangerous this cult was, the better.

“I don’t have a lot, they’re a secretive group. But I can tell you one thing; whatever he’s done for them, he’s done it to get to you.”

“The Inquisition?” She feared that wouldn’t be the case, much like with the Blades of Hessarian.

“No.” Felix shook his head and her hoped died. “You, by name. They’re obsessed with you, but I don’t know why.” He gave her an apologetic look. “Perhaps because you survived the Temple of Sacred Ashes?”

“Did they have anything to do with that?”

“If they did, my father hasn’t said anything about it.”

“You _can_ close rifts though. Maybe there’s a connection?” Dorian theorised. “Or maybe they see you as a threat?” Felix didn’t look happy at that.

“If the Venatori are behind those rifts, or the Breach in the sky, they’re even worse than I thought. I love my father, and my country, but this…” He unhappily shook his head. The remorse was genuine; he dearly loved his parent. “He’s in way over his head and risking his life. I don’t want that for him.”

Asala frowned. The way he said it, it almost sounded as though he was dying and knew it. He wished to leave this world knowing those he cared for didn’t soon follow him. “I don’t even know what could be done about all this.” If they could get hold of the templars, and drag them out of whatever hole they’d dug themselves into, maybe this could be sorted? Fighting magic with magic had never seemed a great solution to her. It was what they appeared to do in Tevinter and the reason why blood magic was so abundant there.

“You know you’re his target,” Dorian supplied. “Expecting the trap is the first step in turning it to your advantage. I can’t stay in Redcliffe however. Alexius doesn’t know I’m here, and I’d like to keep it that way for now.” Then his eyes took on a determined edge. “But whenever you’re ready to deal with him, I want to be there. I’ll be in touch,” he finished with a nod and Asala considered telling the man outright that she hadn’t planned on coming back after this. She really would prefer getting the templars to ally with the Inquisition and then take care of this idiocy the unwelcome magister was causing. However, she didn’t want to waste any more time than she already had arguing with either of them. On a deeper level she could see that this issue needed to be dealt with, and as soon as possible. The templars weren’t going anywhere, but at the same time… Wants and needs.

“Oh, and Felix?” Dorian had been in the midst of leaving when he paused and turned back towards them. “Try not to get yourself killed,” he said with a wink.

Felix didn’t smile as he watched the other man go. “There are worse things than dying, Dorian,” he said in a low but calm voice and Asala knew for certain the man was simply counting down the days until the end. It was sad but… if dedicated healers both mundane and magical had already tried, there was nothing she would be able to do for him.

“You think they’re right?” Blackwall asked once they were alone in the chantry. “Alexius is setting a trap for us?”

“I don’t know. Possibly?” _Most likely_ , Asala added mentally. It’d be just their luck.

“I’m more worried about this cult business,” Varric confessed with a bit of distaste. “Does Tevinter really need cults? Aren’t they crazy enough already?”

“Vints are all crazy,” Iron Bull said with a shrug. “If it isn’t cults, it’s demons or musical theatre or something.” Asala raised a brow at him upon hearing that but he didn’t look the least apologetic. She agreed it was an odd combination but musical theatre was hardly in league with crazy cults or demons in her book. Then again, maybe she’d been too long in Orlais. Although compared to Kaariss, she was far from Orlais-ified. It was the only way to describe the man at times and it wasn’t even a word!

They left Redcliffe shortly after that. It was a long road home and there was a lot to do. Asala prayed no more rifts would rip open while they were gone. If the magister now _was_ the one causing them, then maybe he would slow down whatever he was doing since he’d gotten their attention. They stayed the night at the nearby Inquisition main camp before heading out the next morning with refreshed horses and a personal one for Blackwall so that no one would have to share.

“You know, I met the Arishok.” They were halfway into the afternoon the next day and still had a ways to go when the comment came. Asala cast a surreptitious glance at Varric just to make sure he wasn’t directing it at her.

“Oh, the old one?” Iron Bull shook his head nostalgically. “Man, he had an impressive rack. The new Arishok doesn’t have horns at all. Usually means they’re destined for something special.”

“I met him, too. The only thing they seem to have in common is a tendency to burn things.” Towards the end his voice got a bit annoyed but there was something about his words that was almost… amusing, at least to Asala.

“That pretty much sums up the antaam, yes,” Iron Bull answered matter-of-factly. At the head of their travelling party, Asala gently shook her head. She didn’t know enough about the antaam in action to agree or disagree on that. Something she _could_ argue, however, was that she’d found both the current and previous Arishok quite impressive for a number of reasons.

“You know, considering how open you are to answering questions, Bull, I’ve got to ask; how could you possibly be a spy?” Varric asked dubiously a moment later.

“Well, it’s a pretty easy job,” the man in question replied with a casual shrug. “I do some fighting, and drinking, and then once in a while I tell Par Vollen about it.”

From Varric came an amused snort. “Yes, but where’s the sneaking, plotting, the subtle machinations?” He sounded terribly disappointed and just the tiniest bit confused.

“If you do that, everyone knows you’re a spy,” Iron Bull replied with a sigh. “Drinking, fighting, writing notes, that’s all it really takes.”

A second of silence followed as Varric studied the other man to see if he was joking. Apparently he came to the conclusion that he wasn’t. “Shit.” That one word held a note of the genuine kind of disappointment only those who have been disillusioned knew. “You’re really the worst Qunari ever, or the best. I can’t decide.”

“Worst.”

It wasn’t only Iron Bull and Varric who stared at Asala suddenly but it was the Qunari who managed a reply first.

“Hey now, boss! That hurts,” he told her grumpily. Asala simply turned her head over her shoulder and cast the man a sweetly innocent smile.

“Hah!” Varric began laughing behind her, joined by Blackwall. “And she’s got humour after all.” She did, she agreed silently, but unless Iron Bull was able to figure her out for what she was… he was either the worst spy or she was good at hiding the truth and making others believe her lies. And _very_ lucky, mustn’t forget lucky. But if she was lucky, why was all this crap happening? Or was her luck just very picky on where it applied itself? Considering where it appeared to apply itself the most… she couldn't very well be mad.

Some four days later, at long last, they arrived in Haven once more. The war council quickly gathered and listened to Asala’s report of events in Redcliffe. Cassandra’s thoughts upon the matter were clear upon her face and she wasn’t the only one.

“This whole business is distasteful. We’re better off pursuing the templars instead.”

“And leave a hostile foreign power at our doorstep?” Leliana argued against the seeker’s words. They were both right, of course, and that was the problem.

“Not to speak of all the nobles we’ve been corresponding with who has decided to join the Inquisition at Therinfal Redoubt,” Josephine added in. A quick flash of expression on Leliana’s face told Asala how much she cared about that matter in face of the real problem. It was almost something she’d expected to see more of in the commander. But after having dealt, or at least been in the line of fire, of some of those very (useless) nobles, Asala could understand why Josephine didn’t like the work to go to waste and the clean-up measure possible necessary for their decision.

“On a more practical note, we don’t have the manpower to take the castle!” Cullen noted tiredly, then added with a frown: “Either we find another way in, or we give up this nonsense and go get the templars.”

“Redcliffe is in the hands of a magister. This cannot be allowed to stand,” Cassandra argued stubbornly but Cullen simply shook his head. Cassandra’s determination was inspiring and at times tantamount to success, but the commander knew what forces he had at his disposal and how to best use them. He was correct on this point. If they wanted to deal with the magister, they needed another way in.

“That may so be, but the letter from Alexius asked for the Herald of Andraste by name. It’s an obvious trap.” Josephine was either upset by the poorly disguised trap, or felt insulted on the Inquisition’s behalf that the magister thought them either so dumb they wouldn’t catch on or actually allow the person he wanted to walk over there unprotected.

“There are also the people stuck in the middle,” Asala reminded them all. Therinfal Redoubt, by all accounts, was a lone castle with a small village nearby to supply it, but it wasn’t plagued by time-disrupting rifts. “Redcliffe is by far not empty.” The mages may be at the castle or in the village but they still weren’t the only ones there. The Inquisition had aided and protected the Crossroads, why shouldn’t they do the same for the bigger and more strategically important Redcliffe Village?

“Yes, and yet some of us wants to sit and do nothing.”

“Not this again.” Josephine gave Leliana a small glare for her words, the actions speaking louder than any words about how she felt in regards to that accusation.

“Redcliffe Castle is one of the most defensible fortresses in Ferelden.” Cullen shook his head, both annoyed with and respectful of that truth. “It has repelled _and_ withstood thousands of assaults. It isn’t feasible.” Then he turned his attention onto Asala, for a moment putting all annoyance at their debate aside to allow his whole visage to fill with the seriousness of his next statement. “If you go in there, you’ll die.” He said it without fanfare or threat. It wasn’t meant to scare or sway her. It was simply a fact, hard and cold. But it was delivered from a military standpoint. “We’ll lose the only means we have of closing these rifts. I won’t allow it.” That last bit had a faintly passionate note hidden in it, indicating that he cared. If he cared on any other level than his duty required, Asala didn't know but doubted it. She hadn't seen anything close to Sera's reaction to her from the man after all.

“And even if we _could_ assault the keep, it’d be for naught,” Josephine added with a serious frown. “An 'Orlesian' Inquisition’s army marching into Ferelden would provoke a war,” she said the last few words in a slow, pointed manner, probably in hopes of instilling just how serious it was. As if any of them had missed it. But it was a good reminder. However… “Our hands are tied.”

“No. How often does this have to be said?” Asala felt annoyance rise. “We are not bound by a nation. The Inquisition has so far only closed rifts in Ferelden,” _mostly because there have been no other reports so far_ , she grumbled silently, “and the Chantry, supposedly, is an institution that spans the nations. It may not agree with us now, but it was people out of that institution that birthed the Inquisition. Not to mention it was instigated on the request of the last Divine. How can they be so blind to their own common ground?” For a second she’d considered not saying the last bit but then forged ahead anyway. They were in a heated debate, she wasn’t angry beyond sense and the only other Qunari in the village wasn’t in here. Not to forget that as sentiments go, it wasn’t that incriminating. She felt safe stating it.

Josephine gave an uncomfortable nod. She saw, and agreed, to the statement. It surprised Asala but only momentarily. If anyone would, it was the ambassador, of course.

“But they must see that the magister—”

“Has outplayed us,” Cullen grudgingly gave his respect to the man that wasn’t present.

“Wherever you choose to play, I want to come along.”

They all froze and then moved as one as eyes rose towards the rafters where Sera sat lazily, feet crossed at the ankle and idly fixing an arrowhead to a new shaft. Asala could only stare. How in the world had…

“How did you get in here?” Cassandra demanded with an annoyed frown. Sera finally glanced down at them before stuffing the sharp piece of metal away only the Prophet knew where and swung her legs over the thick beam’s side. The next second, she’d pushed off and landed just clear of the giant table with its maps, notes, markers and candles, the latter flickering violently at the sudden draft.

“I’d like to know _when_ she got there,” Josephine added none too happy as Sera righted herself beside Asala before turning around.

“I’ve been here the whole time. Took you all long ‘nough, too,” she complained.

“Irrespective of when, how or from where; no,” Asala stated simply, having the elf turn to her with an unhappy frown.

“Why not?” she challenged, annoyance clear upon her face as well as in her words. Asala studied the girl, suddenly none too happy herself. Sera definitely wouldn’t appreciate her feelings of not wanting to put the girl in danger, especially not when it came to irresponsibly used magic, but at the same time, it was the reason she felt most strongly to argue for. Something had to be said because a staring match was beneath both of them, and most certainly her when the issue wasn’t something small or largely irrelevant. Sera was here to fights, yes, she knew that perfectly well, but at the same time, the girl just… She made Asala feel—

“Wait.” Asala and Sera weren’t the only ones to turn towards Leliana who was studying them carefully. Or, rather, she was studying Sera.

“Why’s she staring?” Sera asked uncertainly as she leaned away after a few seconds of silence. Asala could agree on that.

“Spymaster—”

“I may know of another route in,” the woman interrupted Asala’s question and finally took her eyes off the elf. “There’s a secret passage into the castle, an escape route for the family.” A small smile was playing on the redhead’s lips as the idea began to form into a plan in her mind. “It’s too narrow for our troops, but we could send agents through.”

Asala frowned. It was a good idea, but… “What does this have to do with Sera?”

“You should bring her, Adaar,” Leliana said with a nod at Sera. The woman had stopped calling Asala Herald in private after she’d come upon the spymaster while praying. Leliana had been upset over recent events and rightly so. She’d asked Asala outright about the Maker, Andraste and what the Qunari thought she was. Asala had told her what she thought, and more importantly didn’t think, she was. She knew Leliana had some rudimentary skills with Qunlat because after it became known she spoke it, the spymaster had requested some pointers on pronunciation. It had seemed harmless enough so Asala hadn’t minded giving it. However, if Leliana understood what her name meant, she hadn’t said anything about it.

Asala frowned unhappily at the other woman but didn’t need to voice her question. “She got in here without anyone of us noticing. That means she can also get out should anything go wrong in Redcliffe. We need an insurance if you go there in case anything goes wrong and the more of them, the better. My agents are good, but I’m sure I’m not the only one who’d want more than just one possibility covered,” Leliana replied as she glanced at the other advisors.

“She does get into places she shouldn’t,” Josephine grumbled in a near inaudible voice. Asala figured this came from her displeasure regarding the reports Sera had, as it’d been put, vandalised in the short time she’d been present at Haven. They were few but it still meant she _could_ get in and out, unseen, of places usually supervised. Asala pressed her teeth together behind sealed lips, refusing to make a sound. Leliana made a good point. There was sense to bringing the girl, but…

Asala heaved a sigh. “All right,” she conceded tiredly.

“Really?” Sera sounded happy though. “Yes! All right, I’m gonna go see to my arrows,” she said as she eyeballed the shaft in her hand, as though looking for some imperfection beyond the fact it was missing its deadly head. “Gonna need lots of little arrows for stupid, little baddies,” she noted as she headed for the door. “And I’ll know if you try ‘n leave without me!” she called as she closed the door behind her. Cassandra was glancing at the door with annoyed eyes until it closed completely but then turned back.

“And you’re not going either, just so we’re clear,” Asala added so they could get that out of the way. Cassandra’s brown eyes shot to her and she blinked, surprised.

“Why not?”

“Because if something does happen, the Inquisition will need you,” Asala glanced around the table, “ _all_ of you, more than ever.” She understood a lot of people came here and were inspired by their belief that she was a herald of their prophet. Just because she didn’t agree or believed it herself didn’t make it any less real for them. She would not endanger all their avenues for morale in one fel swoop. Cassandra didn’t like it, Asala could see it in her face, but she nodded nonetheless.

“Understood.”

“I still disagree to going forward with this. The passage, while a good idea, is too risky,” Cullen argued. “This is a magister from Tevinter we’re talking about. Those agents will be discovered well before they reach him.”

Leliana was smiling now, and not the generally used “I’m happy” smile but one that told the receiver they maaaay want to leave now because she had something on them. “That’s why we need a distraction. Perhaps the envoy Alexius wants so badly?” she concluded with a small, lopsided smile and a raised brow. Maybe she’d already had the plan formulating in her head and Sera had just given her the opportunity to present it or maybe the girl had jogged a memory ten years old, conceiving the plan? It didn’t matter how it came about. It mattered that it worked. The mages couldn’t be allowed to remain there while under the Tevinter’s influence and the magister couldn’t be allowed to stay, period. If they didn’t sort this and it got back to Par Vollen… Asala didn’t want to think about what they’d say up in Qunandar. Dangerous magic was one thing but dangerous magic possibly harnessed by Tevinter and then used against the Qunari? They wouldn’t sit idly by and wait to see _if_ that happened.

“Keep attention on Adaar while we disable the magister’s defences. It’s a gamble, but it might work.” No one had a chance to say anything else because the door suddenly opened, allowing entrance to—

“Fortunately, you’ll have help.” The mage from the Redcliffe chantry; Dorian Pavus. An Inquisition scout came hurrying in after him but stopped respectfully in the doorway and gave a quick incline of his head in greeting and apology but didn’t waste any time.

“This man says he has information about the magister and his methods, Commander.” Cullen frowned in reply but moved his eyes onto Dorian instead as Asala gave a very brief introduction to both sides.

“Your spies will never get past Alexius’s magic without my help. So if you’re going after him, I’m coming along,” Dorian explained his presence once Asala was done. Cullen raised a brow and Leliana was studying the man but as neither of them said anything to the contrary, especially Leliana, Asala assumed they didn’t see it as a problem or a threat. When the commander turned his eyes onto her, she fixed her attention on him as well. He didn’t look too happy. She cast a quick smile at Dorian.

“Master Pavus, we’ll definitely want your insight on the castle and you may come along, as you request, but would you mind giving us a moment first?” Dorian gave her a good-natured smile.

“But of course. Just, don’t take too long, will you? This place is rather chilly,” he told them before exiting. Once the door closed, Asala turned her eyes back onto Cullen again.

“The plan puts you in the most danger. We can’t, in good conscience, order you to do this.” Asala smiled to herself and shook her head. It would’ve been easy if they ordered her to _not_ do it. Or would it? The templars weren’t doing their duty and how could she impress the danger of allowing the mages even one more day inside that castle without revealing too much about herself? She should be glad they hadn’t ordered her to not deal with the mages, but this was a lose-lose situation. At least for her personally. She forced herself to let it go at that. Lingering on such thoughts would bring her attention to the idiocy many in the South displayed, something that would only raise her ire. She needed to focus upon what was important now, on what the Inquisition needed. She frowned at the map then turned her eyes onto Josephine.

“Ambassador Montilyet, do we have enough political allies to force the Templar Order to hear us?”

Josephine blinked at her confusedly. “Most certainly, Your Worship, but—?”

“Please tell them to prepare for a move upon the redoubt.” The Antivan wasn’t the only one to be surprised but Leliana was the first to drop surprise in favour for careful consideration. Asala explained her sudden words. “We need to deal with Redcliffe, yes, but I’d prefer the templars to stand us by in the matter of the Breach. Send a messenger to Therinfal ahead of us and tell them we’re seeing to a task that is _their_ job and then we’re coming to meet with them. To show them we’re serious, send a small military escort with the messenger to wait upon us. They don’t leave until we arrive. The Bull’s Chargers are at our disposal, are they not?”

Josephine nodded slowly. “They are, Herald. It’d be a calm job but we could set them to do this.”

“There’ll probably be more for them to do later, but I want the templars to know we’re serious. Our first meeting went badly after all.”

“And you don’t think that gibe will affect them?” Cullen inquired with an amused grin. Asala smiled back.

“If they are insulted over so little simply for it being the truth, then maybe they shouldn’t allow others the possibility to cast it at them,” she replied serenely.

“Are you sure about this?”

Asala turned to Leliana. “If it’s up to me, then, yes, I am sure. The mages have made their bed with the insipid decision to side with Tevinter. The least we can do however, is remove the active threat to us before dealing with the biggest problem,” she finished with a hand casually raised and index finger pointing skywards. “Everything else can come later.” Leliana nodded. She may see the mages in a very favourable light and she may have some point to it but right now, the mages were a problem, not an asset.

“Ah, yes, one more thing.” At the ambassador's words Asala paused on her way to the door and getting Dorian back inside to help with the planning of sneaking into Redcliffe. “A reply has come from your mercenary company, the Valo-Kas,” Josephine said as she walked around the table to give the parchment to the Qunari. She’d heard that Leliana’s people had been successful and the letter stated as much. It also made her smile and silently laugh. Yes, being alive was actually a _very_ accomplished feat after what had been happening the last month now. Asala turned eyes sparkling with mirth onto Josephine.

“Ambassador, would it be at all possible to see to the Valo-Kas’s reimbursement? The Conclave did blow up but the peace between mages and templars was kept. It appears no one saw to it in the aftermath of things.” Josephine’s eyebrows went very close to her hairline.

“But of course. I’ll look into the matter as soon as we’re done here.”

“Thank you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let's see how that plan goes, Asala. (Edit: And hope it doesn't kill the Chargers, seeing how most of us know what happens after you choose the mages or templars.)  
> In case anyone was wondering, no, I don't have kids (or any experience with them). I am, however, fairly empathic and decent at reading people.
> 
> I really wanted to feature the side quest "Flowers for Senna" but there was no good place where it would fit in. The reason for this is because of the sentiment Asala would've given as an explanation to the old widower when asked why she would do this for him: when the old have served their time, the young must take up their duty. I personally hold to that. On another note, I only recently realised that this is apparently also, when worded somewhat differently, a Chinese proverb. Well, hell. Funny.
> 
> I fixed a few capital errors in earlier chapters (specifically chantry and Chantry), so that should be consistent from now on. However, this document has now reached the size where Word stops correcting it for misspelled words (because there are already so many words it doesn't agree with, like names) so you may encounter more typos from here on out. I'll try to catch them.


	16. Chapter 16

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Inquisition meets the Tevinter magister on his playing field and suddenly all plans are thrown out the window as disaster strikes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies for the short chapter. The next should come quicker. I hope.

She’d planned on asking Blackwall to come along. On the way to the smithy however, she spotted Iron Bull briefing the Chargers on their task before they prepared to leave. This, if anything, was something they could benefit from Par Vollen knowing about being sorted and the warden had signed on to fight the Breach, not rebellious mages. Then again, Iron Bull was Qunari so he may not wish to get that close to hostile magic… She’d taken a second to think it over and in the end decided to make the offer to the big man. He’d agreed to come along. She didn’t ask for his reasons, it wasn’t necessary. He did what he had to do, which meant he surely had training to cope with it. Now they stood there in the entrance hall of Redcliffe Castle, recently arrived and man was striding towards them. He gave her a respectful nod but that was all. It was fine. She wasn’t here for pleasantries or silly games of politics. She was here to set things straight and throw out a Tevinter magister.

“Announce us.”

“Of course,” the man said with a quick nod. “However, the invitation was for Mistress Adaar alone. The others will have to remain here,” he concluded with a sweep of a hand, indicating the grand entrance hall. The invitation had said that and as far as representatives of the Inquisition went, they were an odd group; two Qunari and an elf. That didn’t matter though and Asala remained where she was.

“They’re my bodyguards. I’m not allowed to go anywhere without them,” she stated without fanfare and thoroughly unapologetic. “If they cannot come, I can’t go meet the magister. Simple as that.” The man’s visage dipped into a very prominent frown but as she didn’t move an inch, he finally relented with a nod.

“Very well.” He sounded like he was suffering. Asala didn’t much care. She wasn’t going to be as stupid as to go meet with a Tevinter all alone. _He_ was unlikely to be alone, too, considering the mage guards present in the entrance hall. The servant waved them along before leading the way. Asala sincerely hoped Dorian had been able to deliver and Leliana’s people were on their way in. Cassandra had insisted on as much backup as possible to go with the infiltration unit just in case. Leliana hadn’t been too happy with the increased number of people but Asala hadn’t protested. In the case of Tevinter, you were better safe than sorry.

In short order they stood in the audience chamber. A large fireplace burned merrily at the back wall, raised on a slight dais so that the light reached nearly all corners of the room. In front of the hearth stood an ornate chair, the magister’s son stood to one side while the Grand Enchanter was on the other. Asala hoped Fiona wouldn’t prove to be an issue in this case simply because she was “indentured” to the man. Unless she was under some sort of magical control or other compulsion, the woman could choose whether or not to be a nuisance if they had to deal with the magister by more terminal means.

“My lord magister, the agents of the Inquisition have arrived,” the servant announced as he took a step to the side. The room was edged in pillars, quite like a boulevard is with trees, and by each of the three pairs nearest the dais, stood a guard. What with the two who’d followed them in, that made for eight combatants, not counting the magister himself or Fiona. Asala didn’t count Felix among them but was also reluctant to count the man among her own. He’d requested help in dealing with his father but she doubted he’d go so far as to actively fight against the man. She just hoped he wouldn’t hinder them should it come to battle. And if it did, she hoped Leliana’s six agents, accompanied by Varric, Blackwall and Dorian, were able to get into the audience chamber to render aid. If they didn’t… this was bound to be an uneven fight that was likely to end swiftly.

“My friend! It’s so good to see you again.” Alexius rose from the armchair as he spoke. Asala frowned unhappily at him but respectfully inclined her head. He moved as though he owned the castle when he really shouldn’t even be in the country. Maybe it was something that he hadn’t made any changes to the décor or the like, at least as far as she could tell. It all looked very Fereldan still, dog motif and strict, almost dwarven architectural style. Then again, she hadn’t seen much of Ferelden and even less of Tevinter, just enough to recognise each, so maybe she wasn’t able to tell.

“And your… associates, of course.” The pause was miniscule but it was there, like a twitch at the corner of the eye or mouth it betrayed a feeling, something not going according to plan. Alexius didn’t even glance at the man who led them in but in her peripheral vision, Asala thought she saw blond tense ever so slightly. Alexius continued as though nothing was amiss, ever polite, ever amicable. “I’m sure we can work out some arrangement that is equitable to all parties.”

Leliana had said she would know when they were through but Asala still worried. She had to stall for time until some sort of signal came and she couldn’t seem to be waiting or looking for it. While having a great imagination and being creative was one thing, not showing your emotions and keeping nervosity under control wasn’t something she excelled at. This was probably why she hadn’t been set as a member of the Ben-Hassrath, damn it! At times she’d wondered what her old tamassran would have said if she knew Asala could conceal the truth of a matter as well as she could. She’d never done it as a child, she’d had no reason or wish to. When her magic manifested properly at long last… it was just a necessity. You didn’t have to like or dislike a necessity, but you performed it anyway.

“Are we mages to have no voice in deciding our fate?” Without knowing it, Fiona delivered assistance on the matter as she stepped forward. At least she wasn’t about to just stand to the side and pretend to be mute and deaf, that was always a nice thing. The fact that the elf _still_ tried to speak for and care about her people, even after her stupid decisions and mistakes, was both admirable as well bad. She could either be an asset during this mission or a great hindrance, both now and when they were done.

Alexius turned his eyes onto the elf with a look that said he was annoyed at having to state this even once, not to mention twice, all the while trying to maintain the charade of being a pleasant host. Asala considered sparing them both by stating they knew why he’d called her here. She couldn't though. They needed the signal first. “Fiona, you wouldn’t have turned your followers over to my care if you did not trust me with their lives.” Asala was willing to argue that. Idiots made unsound decisions. Then again, she could use the distraction.

“You are not in Tevinter, Alexius. While the Grand Enchanter isn’t Fereldan either, she’s been chosen to speak for the Fereldan mages so, as someone who may know the feelings of Ferelden better than either of us, I welcome her input.” She didn’t have to act upon anything Fiona said though.

The Grand Enchanter cast a glance at Asala and for a second it was surprised before the woman reeled it in. “Thank you,” she replied and although it was spoken with a calm grace so was there honest gratitude in it, too. Alexius regarded them in silence for a second before turning back and seating himself once again.

“I must say, I’m surprised. Earlier you expressed a… distinct disinterest in using magic to close the Breach and now you’re here. I can only assume you have understood what is truly needed here, so let’s not waste time. What shall you offer for the aid of my mages?” Asala stared evenly at him, refusing to let him see just how annoying his arrogance was to her. He was insinuating that she was the unenlightened one who’d finally come to the correct conclusion? The delusional fool! She could argue his presumptions but it’d only be a reprise of the tavern and she would prefer to keep her cool while here. She opened her mouth but didn’t get far. Somewhere in the shadows, something flickered. Unable to stop, lest that actually was a signal and she blew their cover, Asala went for the one thing that actually bugged her.

“How about nothing?” Asala bit out as her eyebrows dipped in a glare. If what she’d seen wasn’t Leliana’s signal, then… she’d argue sanity and safety with the man for as long as she could. “How about we rather discuss the madness you’re pursuing here? Time magic maybe? Or maybe how you and your 'Venatori' want me dead?”

“I must confess, I don’t know what you mean. However, if that’s what you believe, I marvel at the fact that you chose to come here at all.”

“I have more sense of responsibility, more sense in general it’d appear, than you, that’s why I’m here,” Asala retorted as her glare intensified. “You may also quit the act,” she added with a grimace. “Whatever idiocy you’re hoping to achieve, you won’t be doing it in the South.” If he went back home and did it, she couldn’t complain too much, but… he should sincerely not be allowed to perform it at all. “And,” she decided to add, even though she disliked it, “you’ll not be doing it with the aid of the southern mages.” Asala hoped Fiona wasn’t taking it as an indication that the Inquisition backed them and were giving them a carte blanche after this was done.

Alexius frowned at her but before he could say anything, his son turned towards him. “She knows everything, father.” He sounded sad, as though he wasn’t happy in having to finally confront his father in such a way but also glad that whatever madness Alexius was getting involved with was, hopefully, at long last coming to an end. The magister turned his attention onto his son with a disapproving frown.

“Felix, what have you done?”

“The dedication and loyalty your son has for you is admirable, Alexius, but he obviously knows when something has gone too far.” _I shall assume he got that from his mother for he certainly can’t have gotten it from you,_ Asala silently added. Insulting people did little and seldom brought anything forward. That didn’t mean though, that she didn’t do it every now and then in her head. “Whatever you hoped to achieve, it won’t come to pass. We took the backdoor as well as the front entrance, Magister.

“I’ve yet to see that which you claim, little girl,” Alexius retorted with a glare of his own finally in plain sight. At last, the charade was out the window. As he continued to speak, he pushed out of his chair to walk closer to the edge of the dais and Asala at the base of its steps. “You walk into my stronghold—”

“It’s not yours,” Asala stated with a glare but the magister simply reciprocated without pause.

“—with your stolen mark – a gift you don’t even understand – and think you’re in control? You’re nothing but a mistake.” he hissed at her.

She almost asked what part of her was a mistake. Her magic? Her being in the South? But she could guess; the mark upon her hand. “If you’re feeling so bloody chatty, then why don’t you tell us what the mark is and what it was supposed to do?” She wasn’t proud of her barely held back snarl but it was better than losing her patience completely.

“That mark belongs to your betters,” Alexius sneered at her, a flash of true anger flitting through his eyes. “You, of all people, attaining it? A southern-born Qunari! You can’t even begin to understand its purpose, the glory it was to bring about. It was to be a triumphant moment for the Elder One, for this world.”

“V— I hear you,” _vashedan katoh-qalaba,_ “and all I get out of your words are lunacy.” She’d almost started speaking in Qunlat but caught herself before it even became a word. Alexius glared down at her. He was of average human height but the dais gave him just that little extra, to make him just a bit taller than her. He could’ve stood upon a mountaintop for all Asala cared, she still wouldn’t have felt dispirited.

“Father, listen to yourself!” Felix stepped closer to the older man as he tried to plead with him. “Do you know what you sound like?” Asala knew; a blind fool, scrabbling in a self-imposed darkness as he refused to see the light behind him. _Fanatic._ She didn’t spit it out but she wanted to. _Unenlightened fool._

“He sounds exactly like the sort of villainous cliché everyone expects us to be.”

Asala wasn’t the only one to blink surprised and turn towards the voice coming closer from the entrance. It was indeed Dorian. That meant the infiltration team was through. Asala felt a tiny part of her relax that she hadn’t realised had been strung taut this whole time. The mage strode closer casually, as though it was the most natural thing in the world for him to be there. If Asala had been more paranoid and less willing to believe that even some in Tevinter had to have some sense in them, she might had feared the man having played them to make sure they didn’t have backup. He’d said it himself after all; expecting the trap was the first step in turning it to your advantage. Then again, it would have been an unnecessary cruel joke if that sort of double game have been true. The perfectly audible disappointment in Alexius's voice when stating the other man’s name did point towards there being no such game though. However, the fact that the magister didn’t sound bitter had Asala thinking Alexius didn’t find Dorian a threat. Why was that?

“I gave you a chance to be a part of this,” the magister stated none too happily. “You turned me down. The Elder One has power you would not believe. He will raise the Imperium from its own ashes.” Asala frowned at the man’s words. Was this truly a war against the Tevinter Imperium then? Suddenly she began to fear having taken Iron Bull with her. Depending on what he said and what they decided up in Qunandar, they’d either be facing Tevinter _and_ a Qunari invasion or Tevinter would be facing a two front attack; the mainland states from the south and the Qunari from the north. It could swing either way and it was unsettling to not know which way it’d go.

“Well, Grand Enchanter,” Asala said tiredly, honestly wanting to snark at the woman instead and call her an idiot. “It appears the man you thought to be your best bet is nothing but a fanatic, part of a cult. Congratulations.” Fiona didn't spare her the glare but Asala met it with an even stare. She could stand to hear it. She would like whatever else Asala had to say even less after all.

“Well, you know, it _is_ a chance for the Imperium to really one-up that whole 'starting the Blight' thing.” Asala couldn’t help the corner of her mouth twitching. Dorian had a way with words, and his voice, that made most things sound amusing if he wished it. If she knew him better, she might have been able to say if that was just the way he was or if there was a reason to it. She was beginning to wonder though; when would the rest of the backup show? She couldn’t exactly ask or look for them.

Alexius didn’t seem to find Dorian’s words amusing if his frown was anything to judge by. “Any past mistake will be irrelevant once the Elder One takes control. He will make the world bow to mages once more and we will rule from the Boeric Ocean to the Frozen Seas.” So apparently he wasn’t just a fanatic but also a lunatic. Great! She’d hoped to just send him home but it almost appeared that they’d have to take care of the magister in some permanent way to make sure he didn’t cause any more trouble.

“All right, enough—”

“You can’t involve my people in this!” Fiona’s outraged cry interrupted Asala and, fair enough, better late than never, but still… a bit _too_ late for comfort, according to Asala.

“Alexius, listen to yourself,” Dorian said as he stepped closer to the dais and the magister. It was a noble try but Asala doubted it— _Shhhint-thud!_ Her stomach tensed at the sound and she had to force it to relax. If that was exactly what it had sounded like then… she couldn’t turn and look for it, couldn’t even allow it to register any more upon her face than it already might have. She did the only thing possible and focused upon Alexius instead, setting her expression in a glare. In the meantime, Dorian hadn’t stopped talking. “This is exactly what you and I talked about _never_ wanting to happen!” Asala briefly wondered which part; the world-damaging magic or the ruling bit. “Why would you support this?”

“Please just stop this, father,” Felix agreed as the older man turned from them to face the leaping flames in the hearth. “Give up the Venatori. Let the southern mages fight the Breach, and let’s go home.” The young man felt strongly about this, it was clear in his voice and the stress he filled the last part with. It didn’t have the desired effect though. Alexius turned around quickly to face his son, visage set in a mask of determination and sadness.

“No! It’s the only way, Felix. He can save you,” he said fervently, voice going lower and more intense with each word. However, it was the wording that had Asala frowning and cast a swift, sidelong glance at Felix.

“S… save me?” the younger Tevinter asked incredulously, as though that wasn’t the response he’d expected.

“There _is_ a way,” Alexius continued to ramble as he began pacing in front of the fireplace in a small circle. “The Elder One promised.” Few things could save a person if conventional medicine and magic had failed. The man might be desperate but even he should understand that some things weren’t meant to be. Alexius stopped pacing after only two full turns and turned to stare down at Asala but she got the feeling he wasn’t really seeing her, not entirely anyway. “If I undo the mistake at the temple…” He spoke slowly, almost sounding far away, but his eyes were focused and intense and… staring at her hand. Asala felt like hiding the appendage behind her back but resisted the temptation in favour of simply running the tips of her fingers against the inside of the thumb and palm.

Beside him, Felix shook his head sadly. “I’m going to die. You _need_ to accept that,” he stated emphatically. The words caused Asala to halt in her fidgeting. Was that why—?

“Seize them, Venatori!” Alexius apparently wasn’t listening to his son at all anymore. “The Elder One demands this woman’s life!” Asala took half a step back quickly. She really hoped that the backup— The rest of her thought was drowned out by the sounds coming from behind them. A quick glance over her shoulder to one side of the room confirmed it. The sounds from the opposite side meant she didn’t have to turn her head the other way, too. The magister glancing about was also rather telling. It was over for him.

“It’s over,” Asala stated calmly without any desire or attempt to antagonise the man as he turned baleful eyes upon her.

“You… are a mistake!” he choked out, teeth ground together and hands clenched tight. “You should never have existed!” Asala frowned and opened her mouth but the breath lodged in her throat as Alexius raised a hand, opening the fist that had begun to crackle with magical energy. A simple necklace with a small and plain looking square pendant lay there but soon it was hovering above his palm, twisting and turning in the air as though in pain.

_Oh no!_

“No!” Dorian’s cry echoed her words and he threw up a hand. The scene moved as though slowed by the temporal pockets they’d encountered earlier. The magic sparked to life around Dorian’s hand and exploded in a nova around the pendant and then the room went bright, so bright, and green. Then dark.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Vashedan katoh-qalaba – Foolish glory animal
> 
> From here on out there'll be a few chapters where I, after finishing them, will go and sit in a corner to cry (most likely). Because I'm an empathic sap like that.


	17. Chapter 17

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Asala meets some old faces and a deadly promise is made.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Speedy update because... yeah, this chapter was done in one go. Because of feels. Hope there aren't a bucket load of typos because of that.

A diffused, red light bled back into being and then a loud splash resounded as Asala landed in knee deep water. “Ugh. Great,” she muttered as she felt it begin to seep into her boots despite them being tied tightly into place. Her trousers were already soaked and sticking to her skin. At least it was only to the knee and she hadn’t lost her balance and taken a dive.

“Not very nice, no.” Dorian’s comment came from somewhere to her left and slightly behind her. She was surprised she wasn’t hearing Sera or Iron Bull, especially the latter considering this was as up close and personal with magic as it could get. She turned and spotted the mage a few steps away in the… wherever this was? She glanced towards the light source. A second later she tensed up harshly. That was… red lyrium, right?! But the chunk was _huge_.

“I— Master Pavus?” She flipped back around towards the man who was valiantly trying to wring out as much water as possible in anything above mid-thigh, which was how far the water reached on him.

“Yes?” he answered with a frown but did turn towards her, then his eyes began to wander. “Hmm…” She allowed him a few seconds to absorb the whole thing but at the second “hmm” she couldn’t take it anymore.

“What happened!?” she whispered desperately. No one else was here! It was just her and Dorian in a small, stone-walled room filled with water and some nearly floor-to-ceiling tall chunks of red lyrium. She wanted to know where they were, if maybe Alexius had knocked them out or something, she also wanted to know where the others were and then she wanted away from the lyrium! And not in that particular order either. In fact, she wasn’t too picky about the order as long as all the boxes got ticked!

“Just one second,” Dorian mumbled and Asala snapped, closing the distance between them in a second to grip the man’s upper arm harshly.

“No!” She realised how harsh the first word sounded and made an addendum in a slightly more controlled tone of voice. “…Please.” Dorian cast a sidelong glance at her face. She must have been wearing a face she had no doubt wasn’t able to hide all the anxiety she felt because he gave her a small but sympathetic smile.

“I think… ah, no, I’m certain,” he changed his mind with a quick nod. “A displacement spell. A rather interesting twist to it, too,” he said as he looked around.

“Do you know where we are?” Asala demanded in a low voice, trying to hold her emotions in check. This certainly wasn’t what they’d planned for or expected or even _supposed_ could happen. She began to feel grateful for Leliana’s foresight and argument for bringing Sera along. She just hoped the girl hadn’t gotten knocked out or something.

“Well… yes and no?” Dorian said as he thoughtfully looked around the room again, though his eyes told her he wasn’t really looking at the place physically anymore. She slowly let him go. She could give him a few seconds to make sense. She could definitely muster up that much control. She could and she would. Asala took a deep breath and let Dorian do his surveying. “It’s probably not what Alexius intended,” he said as he focused his gaze upon her once again. “The rift must have moved us… to what?” He scratched his chin thoughtfully, an idle gesture that suggested he did it unconsciously. “The closest confluence of arcane energy?”

“And that means?” She’d studied magic but mostly the Fade under Solas’s guidance and this wasn’t exactly anywhere near anything they’d discussed.

“Let’s see… If we’re still in the castle, which I’m fairly certain about, it… isn’t…” A second of silence passed before Dorian lit up. “Oh! Of course!” He gave a short chuckle at his discovery. “It’s not simply where – it’s when!” Asala stared helplessly at him. Fortunately, she didn’t have to tell him how much that revelation didn’t help. “Alexius used the amulet as a focus. It moved us through time!” Dorian expounded and while it explained things, it didn’t help Asala much as her horror began to mount.

“Please tell me it’s possible to undo this.” She didn’t care if she sounded like she was helpless and pleading. There was no one here except for Dorian and he didn’t really see her as the Herald of Andraste or one of the leaders of the Inquisition. She could afford to break a little at the seams… at least right now. No one was attacking them after all.

“I’m not certain it’ll be a matter of snapping our fingers, but yes, I do hope so.”

“What about the others?” As a Qunari, she was pretty certain Iron Bull would like being tossed through time as much as she did. She wasn’t sure about Sera though.

Dorian had been glancing at the only door in the room, an iron-wrought gate but allowed his attention to return at her question. “I doubt the rift was large enough to bring the whole room through,” he said before moving towards the door, Asala following. “Alexius wouldn’t risk catching himself or Felix in it. As such, they’re probably still where, and when, we left them. In some sense, anyway.” That was more comforting than he might imagine. At the same time though… The two of them, alone, in the different time? No idea when they were or who they could trust? Dorian tried the door and, while a bit noisy, it was open.

“Do you know what was supposed to happen?” Asala asked in a lower voice. It was odd but even if the door was basically iron bars that didn’t mute sound at all, as soon as it was open she couldn’t help dropping her voice. Either Dorian humoured her or there was some sense to making less sound for he dropped his voice as well.

“Well, I believe his original plan was to remove you from time completely.” Asala froze in the middle of exiting the cell, which had to be what it truly was.

“What?” The soft voice wasn’t a choice this time.

“Not a pleasant thought, no,” Dorian agreed but didn’t pause. Asala forced herself into motion again. “If that happened, you would never have been at the Temple of Sacred Ashes or mangled his Elder One’s plan.” He went on to theorise about how it had gone wrong. Asala rarely, if ever, did magic that needed time-consuming preparations, mostly because she’d never dared take time or indulge in magic that much before she left for the South. During her time with the Valo-Kas, she’d gotten a bit more adept at healing spells that were stronger but needed a bit of time to prepare but that was it. Apparently, the type of spells that needed long preparations could backfire horribly unless done properly and even worse if countered when not ready to be cast. It certainly wasn’t an incentive for her to get deeper into that kind of magic even if she’d thought about it herself. Upon having the question of what he knew about this Elder One posed to him, Dorian couldn’t be of much aid though.

“It’s the same old tune,” he said with a shake of his head before putting a silly lilt in his voice. “Let’s play with magic we don’t understand. It’ll make us incredibly powerful!” His disdain for the whole matter was evident throughout. At the end of it, though, there was one question remaining that Asala didn’t want to ask but felt had to be stated.

“And… what happens if we _can’t_ get back?” she questioned nervously.

“Then we get comfortable in our new present,” Dorian replied grimly.

“Not what I wanted to hear.”

“Me neither, but short of possibly ripping the remaining fabric of time to shreds, burning it _and then_ tossing it into the privy, too, there isn’t much we’re going to be able to do about it. For now, let’s just have a careful look around.” It beat sitting there and doing nothing.

“There aren’t any boundaries on how far we could have travelled, is there? Regardless of whether it was back or forward through time,” she inquired as they reached a staircase and began climbing.

Dorian shook his head. “Sadly, it was all theoretical, as I’ve mentioned before. Time magic, even in practice I’d imagine, would lend itself poorly to being tested for solid empirical evidence.” Asala could guess the reason why. If it turned out wrong, then there would be little to no way of informing anyone else about the mishap. Likewise, you’d never be able to tell how many of the failed tries was due to the subject not being able to return to their own time and how many of them simply… got ripped to shreds from travelling through something best left alone. Stupid, stupid power-obsessed people.

Asala’s mood didn’t lighten at the end of the stairs either where they encountered a door. Beyond it was more red lyrium. Varric wouldn’t have been pleased, to put it lightly.

“Alexius has made a dreadful mess of this place, hasn’t he?” Dorian noted cheerlessly as they passed the glowing rocks. “I didn’t much prefer the original state but this… is not an improvement.” Tevinter style was rather different to the Fereldan austerity, Asala thought but didn’t say. It didn’t matter because, as Dorian said, this wasn’t anyone’s idea of improvement. Or maybe it was this Elder One’s idea of a better look.

They hit a dead end and had to turn back once. While the alternative route appeared clear of blockades made by the red lyrium, they did come across something else. It was the same youth that had greeted the Inquisition at the gates of Redcliffe Village. He seemed to stare out at thin air, not reacting in the least as they inched closer. This had to be the future, right? The boy hadn’t been from Ferelden so there’d been no reason for him to be locked up in… Asala came to a halt as she reached the bars. She could only stare. The youth stared right back but apparently without seeing her, mumbling something under his breath. His eyes were half-closed but it didn’t hide the red glow eating the pupil and… It looked as though it beat in time to his heart, a steady expand, expand, retract, expand, expand, retract.

“I… Hello?” She didn’t know his name and in that moment that just felt so… _wrong_ , as though she _should_ have known it so she could call upon him, pull him out of the catatonic state. He didn’t even blink at the sound of her voice. It was horrifying to witness.

“He’s gone. There’s nothing you can do for him and we shouldn’t linger,” Dorian reminded her remorselessly. His voice was sad and he was right, but… damn it! Asala swallowed harshly before forcing herself to back away. The boy never stopped mumbling his chant to Andraste. It wasn’t because he was calling for his prophet and so many had dubbed her the woman’s herald that Asala had a hard time to move away; it was because this shouldn’t be. But Dorian was right. They couldn’t linger. Not right now and certainly not here.

They finally reached a crossroad, so to speak, with three different paths. Asala turned her eyes to Dorian who gave a shrug. Parting was out of the question even if they hadn’t been only two. Heaving a sigh, Asala nodded towards the left. After a few doors and two stairs, she gave up. “This can’t be the right way,” she told Dorian who gave a nod and turned back the way they’d come. A rough sigh, like the wind through pine trees, whispered through the room. Asala cast her eyes around. This place was damned creepy and—

“H-hello?”

They both jumped, then stared at each other for a few heartbeats as silence filled the hall again. Asala cast a nervous glance at the open door beside her. Another moment passed before she inched towards it, Dorian shaking his head behind her and muttering about it being a bad idea but still following her. Moving into the room, they glanced around at the empty cells, some filled with red lyrium and others dark and empty. At the very end of the room, however, there was a cell that had more than just lyrium in it. Both human and Qunari stared as the inhabitant laboriously turned her head towards them, almost as if tired or stiff to the point of nearly being immovable.

“You’re… alive? How?” The elf rasped, trying and failing once to focus glowing, red eyes upon Asala before finally managing to get the Qunari into focus. At least Asala assumed Fiona could see her relatively well. “I saw you… disappear… into the rift.” The effort of talking and keeping her focus on her guests seemed too much and she turned her head back to the wall she was leaning against but continued talking.

“Fiona? What’s happened here? Is that…” Asala finally made herself look properly. The Grand Enchanter was… encased in red lyrium, or… no, it was… “red lyrium growing out of you?” she asked, feeling as though her voice itself may clog up her throat.

“Yes… It’s… like a disease. The longer you’re near it… eventually… you become like this.” Fiona had to stop several times to take a deep breath. Asala wasn’t sure if the red lyrium was somehow crushing her ribcage and lungs or if it was something else, more like a wasting disease brought on by the stone. “Then they mine your corpse for more.” Asala froze.

“They what?” she choked out.

“No, can you tell us the date instead?” Dorian insisted beside her. Asala blinked. Of course, he was right. They needed to know that, but still… She shook her head as Fiona rasped out an answer. She had to focus. “Nine Forty- _two_?” Dorian repeated surprised. “Then we’ve missed an entire year.”

“One year is preferable to ten,” Asala replied earnestly as she frowned worriedly at the elf.

“Please… stop this from happening,” the woman pleaded. “Alexius… serves the Elder One. More powerful… than the Maker… No one… challenges him and lives.”

“Is there anything we can do for you?” Asala hadn’t thought much of Fiona before and knew that all this had been possible because they’d invited the magister to stay but she still couldn’t not offer.

“No. Just… stop this…”

“I promise to do everything within my power,” Asala told the woman before she repeated herself. It made her throat hurt to hear Fiona talk.

“Our only hope is to find the amulet Alexius used to send us here. If it still exists, I believe I can use it to reopen the rift at the exact spot we left.” At Asala’s raised brow and somewhat desperate look, Dorian made an addendum. “Maybe.” Asala actually preferred the “maybe” to a definite. Right now, a definite was just setting them all up for a big failure. “It might also… turns us into paste,” he confessed at length. Asala rubbed at her eyes. That didn’t make her feel much better though. Fail and end up elsewhere, then they could try again. Fail and become paste and it was… well, no more tries to be had.

“You _must_ try,” Fiona demanded and forced herself to look at them once more. Asala wasn’t sure if the cracking noise she heard at the motion was her imagination or not. “Your spymaster, Leliana… she’s here. Find her,” Fiona gasped out. She closed her eyes for a few seconds before continuing. “Quickly… before the Elder One… learns you’re here.”

“All right. We… we’ll go now,” Asala replied helplessly, feeling like it was the last thing they should do. For a second, she considered sending the most concentrated blast of magic she could muster at Fiona’s head to spare the woman further suffering. The elf kept staring at her with those glowing eyes however, making it impossible to remain in their line of sight. In the end, they simply left the room quickly and retraced their steps.

“So, forward or right?” Dorian asked once they were back to square one. His voice made it sound as though forward was the only option and Asala agreed. That was the logical path, wasn’t it? Then again…

“Let’s… Let’s just have a quick look.”

More stairs leading downwards, more doors and more cells both empty and full of lyrium. Once or twice they came across another rambling person just as gone as the elven youth they encountered first. It was eerie. And then it got worse. A voice reached Asala’s ears as they approached another room full of cells, a far too familiar voice speaking a rhyme.

_No._

Each rigid step closer felt harder to complete than the last.

_It can’t be._

Her lungs were having some minor problem functioning. Asala ground her teeth together in an attempt to keep her emotions under control.

_Spare me that at least._

She’d never considered to whom she would direct any plea or prayer but she wondered now for, surely, no one was listening. They came to a halt in front of a cell, causing the occupant to look up and then jump to her feet only to back away from the door.

“No, no, no! You can’t be here!” The girl almost backed into the lyrium clinging to the back wall of her cell like a greedy vine but must have sensed or remembered it as her shoulders twitched. She stopped just short of it and stared back with glowing red eyes as Asala’s heart began to twist like a rag you're wringing water out of. Taking an unsteady step forward, she touched the bars gently with one hand.

“Sera—”

“You’re dead, and they don’t come back to life!” the girl denied as she shook her head violently, still staring at the Qunari.

“Sera…” Asala slowly put her unmarked hand through the bars and reached out. The cell was too small for the elf to move away as Asala laid a gentle hand against her cheek. “I am so very sorry, little one,” Asala mumbled softly as tears filled her eyes. “This was not meant to happen.” It wasn’t. How _could_ this have happened? Had she been here a whole year? Leliana said Sera was good at getting in and out of places unseen. She _couldn’t_ have been here a whole year, right? _Please, do not let it be that_ , Asala prayed. “Never meant to happen,” she choked out through her teeth. Just pressing them together didn’t seem to help anymore, she could still feel her eyes getting warmer and her vision swimming and red at the edges.

“You’re not a demon or whatever then?”

Asala gave a brittle smile but cut it short quickly. Her tears were threatening to spill. “No. And even if I was, I’d get you out of here and then go after Alexius.” It was true. If she became possessed at this very minute, her desire to get the girl out of here would still burn brightly. She even dared bet it’d burn brightly enough to override any demon. The elf stared at her with wide eyes then slowly inched closer. Dorian had moved into Asala's peripheral vision and crouched down by the door. He was doing something to it, something with magic. It didn't matter to Asala right now. Some very distant part of her brain whispered "lock spell" but when the elf before he spoke again, Dorian ceased to exist even to that part of her.

“The day you died?” It was almost painful to see those glowing red eyes this close but Asala couldn’t turn away, couldn’t and wouldn’t. “I ran out of arrows making them pay.” Sera’s gaze fell as she spoke bitterly. “Then it didn’t matter anymore. He killed her, killed the empress and invaded…” Her eyes went up again, boring into Asala’s golden ones. “With a _demon_ army.” The one word held all the horror Asala had missed during that one year. “And now we’re just growing red rocks out of our skin. At least those of us who didn’t die fighting.” Another bitter statement.

“Please tell me you haven’t been in here ever since we went to Redcliffe to speak with the magister,” Asala pleaded. Sera’s eyes were answer enough and she felt her throat muscles spasm violently, the muscles in her body tensing up. Sera dropped her head against the bars while Dorian silently continued to work a lock spell upon the door.

“There’s red everywhere, even when I close my eyes… Can you get the whispers to go away?” Asala bared her teeth but it didn’t keep the tears from starting down her cheeks. Moving closer, she pressed her lips to the girl’s forehead through the bars. She was shaking, her throat locked, but throughout the agonising silence one sentence chimed clear. And it grew louder and louder. He was dead. The magister was _dead_. She was going to _tear that sorry piece of FILTH apart!_

Pulling upon her magic, something she would never have dreamed of doing in such an emotional state before, Asala carefully pushed it against and then through Sera’s skull. Casting a barrier spell around the girl’s brain, she prayed it would dampen whatever effect the red lyrium was having, at least for a while. “I promise—I _swear_ to you, we’ll make it better. But… for now…” She took a steadying breath as Dorian stood up beside her again. The opening of the door forced Asala to release the elf. “For now, come. Let’s get you as far away from these whispers as we can,” she said with a warm but gentle smile as she brushed a few stray strands out of Sera’s eyes.

She was going to murder every single person within this castle to get to the man.

Alexius was going to wish he’d just outright killed her.

He had harmed _her charge_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To motivate or manipulate people, you must first know what motivates them. Asala has, at long last, begun traversing the road to Inquisitor in earnest because she has been given the right incentive. However, if it wasn't for meeting this future Sera, she'd probably have fought against the position much longer or not taken it at all.


	18. Chapter 18

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When you don't know where you are and all your old strengths seem inadequate, find new ones through perseverance.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's a difficult one. Either it'll be seen as a good chapter or not.

Oddly enough, they found Sera’s bow and quiver on a nearby rack. The elf explained that it’d been left there, just a touch out of reach, to show her how foolish and unlikely any attempts at fighting or escaping was. Hers wasn’t the only weapon there, which made Asala wonder how many had sat in these cells over the past year.

“What happened to everyone else?”

“Most of them are dead,” Sera answered Asala’s question as they headed up the stairs. “Well, at least I think most of them are. I know Cassandra and Cullen are. Think I saw Varric’s body at some point. Last I saw Bull was the day you died—disappeared or whatever.”

Asala froze. Then turned to face the elf. “You mean there are more here?”

“If Bull’s still alive, he should be here, yeah. Everyone else… haven’t heard about any of them getting captured.”

Asala rubbed at her forehead. There were only so many doors left down here before forward was the only way to go. They could have a quick look. The more people they could get hold of, the better. It didn’t take much searching before some sort of drinking song, at least that’s what Sera identified it as, was heard. It did sound like Iron Bull’s voice, too. And he sounded _really_ tired of chanting it. She was actually nervous about seeing him. The red lyrium made Southerners lose themselves sooner or later it seemed, but would it do the same to a Qunari? Hopefully not because a violent or sporadically insane person wasn’t a good thing to have by your side, no matter how skilled a fighter or good an advantage they could be.

Asala hoped it was just a very bright lyrium chunk in his cell or her mind playing tricks on her when they reached him. He was backdropped by an awfully bright red light. The large man turned at the unexpected sound and gave them a marked frown before his eye settled on her. “You’re not dead? You’re supposed to be dead.” She frowned herself now. Why did it almost sound like an accusation? “There was a burn on the ground and everything,” Iron Bull grumbled unhappily as Dorian went to work on the lock.

“I’m… sorry for disappointing you?” She didn’t know what else to say.

“Alexius didn’t kill us.” Dorian had obviously had enough of silly, confusing statements and decided to give them a catch up now that both were together… and it appeared that, short of Leliana, there weren't any other members of the Inquisition here. “His spell sent us through time.” The lock popped much faster this time. “This is our future,” he said as he stood up and pulled the door open. Bull gave the man a small glare.

“Well, it’s _my_ present, and in my _past_ , I definitely saw you both die.”

Did the lyrium make the man more obstinate or was this because of being locked up for so long? She’d seen the type of discipline warriors under the Qun responded to and had had two children in her care that had been easily pegged for a role in the antaam. She could try to use the same sort of authority on him. He did seem to enjoy the heat of the battle after all… She didn’t even need to glance at Sera to remember what happened only moments ago. It all lay simmering just under the surface. She’d just never allowed herself to remain incensed for long because it did nothing for her control. However, depending on the circumstances, maybe even anger could have its uses. “We’re fighting Alexius and you can either sit here and sulk or come with us,” she told him bluntly with a somewhat sharp edge to her words. He met her hard eyes but didn’t say anything, not at first, but a second later he exited the cell.

“Why? Want to see what other tricks he’s learnt?”

Asala felt like snorting at the statement. “Magical tricks won’t save him now. We _are_ finding him and we _are_ undoing this mistake of a future.”

The Qunari turned and regarded her for another moment of silence. “Alexius isn’t the one you need to worry about. It’s his 'Elder One'.”

“I’ve gathered as much and once we’re back where we should, we’ll know of his plan ahead of time. He won’t succeed a second time around,” she stated adamantly. She wasn’t sure if something changed within his eye as he regarded her but shortly after she finished, he turned and dug around in a nearby pile of weapons. She thought she saw him shaking his head faintly but couldn’t be sure. Moments later, he was back with a huge axe. It wasn’t the one she’d last seen him with. It didn’t even look remotely Qunari. Maybe his had been destroyed in the fighting.

“You ever fought a demon army?” Asala shook her head. Hadn’t ever been on her agenda and certainly wasn’t, as humans termed it, on any 'bucket list' of hers either. “Well, I don’t recommend it,” Bull concluded as he hefted the axe over one shoulder. “But if this can all be changed and we do meet one, I’ll give it another go.” Asala gave a curt nod. That was better. “Oh, and the magister’s in his throne room. Vints say he locked himself away,” Iron Bull added as they headed for the door.

Asala frowned, annoyed. “It’s not his. It never was and he won’t be borrowing it for much longer,” she stated bluntly. As they reached the top of the stair leading out into the convergence hall, a noise from beyond the door was heard. They quickly halted and Asala leaned in close to the gap between doorframe and door.

“Find them! They must be here somewhere.”

It was faint but she could hear them. Sliding down the door, she tried to peer through the keyhole but couldn’t spot more than two humans. She was sure there were more though. “Anyone feeling too stiff for a fight, speak now,” she whispered and glanced over at the crowded staircase. Grim faces met her, causing one corner of her mouth to crawl upwards just slightly. Apparently not. Standing up, Asala readied a barrier spell in one hand and gripped the door handle with the other. Catching Iron Bull’s eye she did a short countdown, his muscles tensing at the last number, before jerking the obstacle open. As he rushed past her, she threw the spell.

Between the surprise and the fact that no one in the patrol was a mage, the fight was over fast. Asala could tell there were a few stiff joints between Sera and Iron Bull but didn’t comment on it. Their fervour made up for it.

“Let’s not stop ‘til these bastards are lying in their own innards,” Sera requested as she walked around and recovered her arrows after the fight. Well, if they stood in the way, certainly, Asala agreed silently.

“Yeah,” Iron Bull agreed as he stretched some stiffness or crick out of his arms. “Nice to be doing anything at all, really. I’m enjoying it while it lasts.” That last bit had Asala frowning though, and remembering Fiona. They were all dying in an already doomed world. She pressed her lips together. It would all change if she had anything to say about it. Whatever it took to win, they would do it. This was not a world she wanted to come to pass.

The path forward led through what appeared to be the guards’ barracks. It didn’t look much better than the dungeon. A quick look around showed there was no one there. Maybe the rest of them were elsewhere in the castle? Asala mused as they looked around. On a nearby desk lay an open book, the format and dates hinting at it being a log or journal. A quick look at a few pages indicated the latter, as well as revealing some other information.

The Inquisition was no more.

She’d expected as much but it still sent a chill through her body to read it. However, despite how the main opposition had apparently been crushed, Alexius was still fearful, still acted as though there was something _more_ out there. Asala stared silently at the pages, face blank. He was waiting for them. For _her_. He honestly thought she could have put this castle under siege all by herself? Or that she somehow could muster up enough of a resistance in this broken world to make a siege force? The people _did… had_ called her the Herald of Andraste… Faith, if nothing else, had appeared to always be able to move the Southerners as one. The most difficult part of a siege, however, was to get past the outer defences, the curtain wall. Alexius’s paranoia was for naught though. They didn’t _need_ a siege force. They were already inside. Asala watched her nails scrape against the frail paper, partially crumbling it. Title or no, she was going to show the man that a threat could appear anywhere, even from inside your own lines.

“Let’s go. There’s nothing here.” There was nothing else to say or do. There was a staircase in the corner, the only other way in or out of the barracks. Alexius, the fool, apparently hadn’t thought about what would happen if the Breach wasn’t seen to either, the journal had said as much. Demons roaming free everywhere? Rifts opening at random with no one to shut them? Asala grit her teeth. Short-sighted fool!

It didn’t take long to reach the next floor, but once there, Asala wished they could have skipped it. From what little they chose to see, it was several rooms dedicated to torture. She shuddered. It was not a nice place to linger and they quickly moved through the area until they reached a turn in the corridor.

“How did the Qunari learn of the sacrifice at the temple? Speak!” The words grew louder as they drew closer.

“Never!” The defiant reply ended in a shout of pain. It had only been one word, making it difficult to discern if it truly was the person they were looking for, and while they needed to find Leliana, this place wasn’t somewhere Asala would prefer to leave someone alive. If the person wasn’t able to fight though, they couldn’t do more than free them. They couldn’t bring along someone who would need constant protection when they were headed into a battle.

“There’s no use to this defiance, little bird. There’s no one left for you to protect.” Asala frowned at the words as they crept closer. Hadn’t Varric, and a few others, called Leliana Nightingale? But then, if the Inquisition had died, who, indeed, was there left to protect? Or, if that was Leliana, had the spymaster managed to salvage a miniscule force and kept it in hiding? Asala had little doubt about that if anyone could manage just that, it’d be Leliana.

“You’re wasting your breath.”

“You will break!” No one was going to break, Asala disagreed as she put her shoulder against door she was sure the voices were behind, nodded at her companions, and shoved it open. It flew open on far too well-oiled hinges, almost costing Asala her balance as she moved inside with the momentum, barrier spell held at the ready in her other hand. A man in Tevinter robes whirled around, knife in hand, at the sudden intrusion. The hooded person hanging from manacles attached to the ceiling turned their head towards the entrance, too. For a second, Asala wasn’t able to tell if it was a man or woman but then the ragged clothes and a hint of red hair brought recognition. It was Leliana!

“Who’re—?” The woman threw her legs up, catching her tormentor around the throat and pulled him back towards her.

“You’ll die first!” she hissed and tightened her hold as he struggled. Asala moved further into the room but as she didn’t have a blade handy, she didn’t make it over to the two humans before Leliana jerked the body roughly to one side. A crack resounded from underneath the layers of fabric that the man wore. Moments later, he went limp. Leliana didn’t waste any time on releasing his body as Asala hurried over. “You’re alive!” The whisper was strained and incredulous. Asala didn’t spare the woman a glance, assuming she’d rather come down quickly. Luckily, the man had a bunch of keys on him and on the third try, there was a match. Once down on the floor, the woman stumbled a step forward but pushed away the hand Asala reached out. It wasn’t difficult to read the expression upon her face despite the scarring and healing burns. Leliana didn’t want kindness; she wanted justice and harsh action. Asala wouldn’t disregard that wish, not after all the woman obviously had been through.

“We never died in the first place,” she explained calmly as the spymaster regained her balance and forced her abused muscles to push her upright. “The magister miscalculated.”

The woman’s eyes hardened with a light that was hard to describe. Perhaps malicious but justified glee was the term, or simply revenge. “Then it’ll be his last mistake.” There was a dark promise in those words, something a person alive and with hope for the future didn’t speak and often even couldn’t understand completely. For such emotion to breed so successfully, the world must truly have been ruined. Leliana cast her eyes around at them all. “You have weapons. Good,” she stated simply before moving, slowly at first but faster and steadier with each step, over to a nearby chest. Opening it, she dug out a bow, quiver and two daggers, equipping them all.

“You… aren’t curious how we got here?” Asala turned towards Dorian but didn’t manage to shake her head before he’d finished the question.

“No.” The answer was curt and straightforward. When the man frowned and opened his mouth to give further explanation, Asala placed a hand upon his shoulder. She shook her head at him when he glanced over at her. In the end, he gave her a quick nod and remained silent.

They moved swiftly after that, through hallways and rooms, and always, _always_ the glow of red lyrium illuminated their path. Past the subterranean docks they finally came out onto a courtyard, but it wasn’t much of an improvement. The light suddenly switched from dim and red to a diffused brightness and green, an oh so familiar green. Asala raised her head as she stepped out onto the scraggly grass and then stopped dead. The sky… it was completely overtaken by…

“The Breach!” she choked out under her breath. “It’s…” She could only stare. She didn’t need to finish the sentence though; Dorian did it for her with a grave voice.

“Everywhere.”

“Shit,” Iron Bull grumbled as he came through behind her. “You can fit a lot of demons through that thing.” His words made her remember that he and Sera had been locked away for a long time. This must have been the first time the saw the sky in a long time.

“Don’t look up, don’t look up.” Sera was chanting somewhere off to the side but then it faded away. “Shit. I looked.”

Asala turned to the girl. “It won’t be like this for long. Trust me.” Sera stared at her for a second before returning her smile with a very weak version of her own.

“This is madness,” Dorian said with a shake of his head. “Alexius can’t have wanted this.”

 _If he did_ , Asala thought darkly, _he was cracked long before the Venatori got to him._ So far, Dorian had come across as fairly decent and not too mad or arrogant for a Tevinter. Yes, he had a strong idea about himself and he had swagger, but from what she’d heard about Tevinters, whether from mainland sources or Seheron, one thing was sure; they weren’t quite this… cooperative. She would almost have said he was rather untevinter in his manner but she hadn’t met any others personally, being from eastern Par Vollen. All she had to go on were first or secondhand accounts. He was very forward about the positive aspects of magic and almost overly curious about how things could be done, but he was here working _against_ the Breach and the madness that was supposed to be their future if empress Celene wasn’t saved and this Elder One stopped. He was an amalgamation of some very odd elements and opinions.

A sudden crack, loud in the empty courtyard, and an explosion of green had their heads turning as one towards the rift that had unexpectedly torn open on the upper tier. “Heads up!” Asala called as Iron Bull charged ahead. All around them little pockets of distorted time began to ripple into being. It was unnerving how many and short-lived they were. It was like seeing tiny flowers blooming and wilting within the space of seconds all around you. There was another problem than just the temporal pockets however. All the demons were on the upper tier and none of them were coming down. They all moved up but it left them strained for space. There was a veritable sea of space just beyond the rift but moving past the demons to get into a better position was a surefire way to get hurt or worse. They couldn’t afford any reckless actions now but they weren’t in the best tactical position either. Especially not when the seven shades and nearly half that amount of wraiths almost fell out out the rift to nearly land on top of each other.

A quick shout and a gesture to Dorian had him looking after the two archers as far as keeping the demons away with barrier spells went. It’d help if she didn’t have to keep an eye on all of them and make sure she and Iron Bull had some protection, especially since he was the only one trying to keep the demons’ attention. Magic and arrows flashed through the air, blending together in such a way as to almost make them indiscernible from one another. And then her hand began to tingle in that very special way. Asala tensed. No. There was already a rift here. Another couldn’t open yet. It just didn’t happen! But then, the sky looking the way it did shouldn’t have been possible either…

It still wasn’t ready though! Maybe they could take out most of the demons from this rift before the other burst open! “We might have more incoming!” Asala called, causing Iron Bull to cast a quick but no less annoyed glance at her.

“Vishante kaffas!” She didn’t know what Dorian had said but it didn’t sound happy. “Shield the big idiot with the axe!” he called a moment later and Asala cast a confused look over her shoulder at the Tevinter.

“What?!” The concentration on Dorian’s face had her swiftly jerking back around and throw up a stronger barrier spell around the other Qunari. A second later, a wall of fire burst to life all around the man, igniting demons left and right. Asala blinked wide eyes at the scene and Iron Bull… was actually _laughing_ all of a sudden as he dug into the demons with renewed glee. Asala had a moment to wonder how smart a move it really had been to take the man on. He seemed a bit crack—

“Watch out!”

Asala whirled around just as the shade dove for her, gnarled fingers and sharp claws extended. With no time to throw up a barrier, she barely managed to get her staff up in time for a physical parry of the strike that would have rent her arm. The demon pressed harder upon the staff and something began crackling. _No!_ Asala’s eyes shot to the side. Her mark was coming to life. The other rift was close to opening! _Not now!_ And then her hand exploded in light, another rift tore open only metres away… and the staff broke in two. Asala stumbled backwards, lost her balance and footing as the demon dove forward due to suddenly unhindered momentum. She hit the hard flagstones that paved part of the courtyard, the demon didn’t. It took two arrows as well as a fire spell to its head and centre. The force of the impact shoved it to the side where it splintered into Fade energy. The two pieces of her staff clattered sadly on the stone around her. For a second, all she could do was stare at them, then Iron Bull’s call of the reinforcement that was incoming had her jumping to her feet. She could still fight without a staff, it was just more of a burden.

Gritting her teeth, Asala set her eyes upon the approaching demons. This just got a whole lot more complicated. She wouldn’t think about what they were going to do later. Calling down arcane energies to both her hands, she released two sets of arcane barrage spells. Without a staff to smoothen the process and lend the spells its element, the missiles were made up entirely of Fade energy. They exploded in green sparks and lightning upon impact with their targets, paralysing both and making them easy picking for the big man holding the front line. Dorian came up to stand beside her. It didn’t matter as much now when most of the demons were further away.

“Fantastic weather we have today, isn’t it?” he asked cheerfully but Asala could hear the slight strain in his voice.

“They’ll run out soon enough!” They just had to!

The demons did run out, but it took longer than Asala would have preferred. They didn’t have many healing potions between Dorian and her; they hadn’t expected it to go this way when meeting Alexius after all. In that exact moment, she was also rather happy that Iron Bull seemed to prefer the potions to healing because she would need to save all the energy she could if she was to be without a staff for the unforeseeable future.

“Will you be able to hold up?” Dorian asked with a somewhat worried frown. Asala gave him a lopsided smile.

“Don’t worry. I grew into my magic not using staffs. I’m used to it.” The man nodded thoughtfully before glancing across the courtyard.

“Let’s hope we can cut this visit extremely short then, just to be safe. And pray we don’t run into any more couple's rifts,” he added the second part with a smile of his own. Asala shook her head but got up from where she’d been seated on the ground.

“The shorter, the better,” Iron Bull grumbled beside her as he tossed the empty potion’s bottle to the side. Asala couldn’t agree more. Leaving the courtyard behind they were soon deep inside the castle again. Moving quietly but quickly, they nearly missed the small sound. Asala came to a halt just outside the door, Dorian almost crashing into her. She frowned as she put her ear closer to the wood. They shouldn’t get into unnecessary fights, she knew, but she'd rather they get rid of any reinforcement for Alexius on the way than face it later, no matter how big or small it now may be. One gesture to the rest of her companions had them at the ready as she reached down to the handle. Counting down under her breath, Asala threw the door open as fire flared to vividly hot life inside the chamber.

She could just barely discern the agonised face wreathed in the flames, was sure she heard the choked yet fiercely worded oath and promise that _they would not take him alive._ She couldn’t feel her feet moving but they must have. It didn’t matter. She didn’t reach his side before the bones began to dust into ash.

_Connor!_

She couldn’t get the name past her taut lips and teeth harshly pressed together. Asala slumped to the floor before the ash pile illuminated by the flames of the fireplace a few steps away. She reached out but had to tear her hands away. The ash was hotter than the still dancing flames!

“It was an act of courage.” Dorian’s words did not help. There was no doubt that incinerating oneself was an act of courage… but it was also one of desperation. “He knew there was no other way to resist, but he resisted that demon to the last.” There was a pride in the man’s voice and while Asala could agree that, yes, she was proud of the boy, too, she thought with a brittle smile, so shouldn’t this have happened. He’d been freed of the possession all those years ago, the demon banished. Some small part of her knew how silly that logic was though. The sky one giant hole, rifts opening left and right and demons roaming the land freely. There was no way the boy could have resisted with so much arcane energy frizzing about in the air like an ever-present hum, smoothening the path for anything from the Land of the Dead to crawl across. She’d just thought… Asala stared blankly at the ash. She had known that youth even less than she knew Sera but she still felt she’d failed him in some small way. She couldn’t fail again, not anyone or anything. This, all of this, had to be stopped, no matter the cost. She ground her teeth together and stood up slowly. They _were_ going to sort this, whether it be from this horrific future or the still salvageable present. They were _not_ going to fail. _She_ wasn’t going to fail again. The _Inquisition_ wasn’t going to fail ever again.

Asala turned her back to the fire and ash. “Let’s go,” she said in a low but steady voice. Her words sounded cold even to her own ears but the room remained warm and her blood felt hotter than it had any right to be.

From that point on there was a lot less red lyrium around. Dorian’s note about they were probably getting close to Alexius, due to the lack of the nauseating rock, ringing true. Moving down a staircase, noise could be heard coming from beyond the closed door ahead. It sounded like there was more than just a few people this time, too. Shoving the door open, Asala jumped to the side, allowing Iron Bull to rush into the grand chamber. It didn’t take long before she realised that this was the hall before the throne room. And it also had more red lyrium. Whether that meant they were actually close to where Alexius was hiding or not had to be left for later because the room had not only guards in it but demons as well. Central to the chamber was a big rift, hanging open and blazing with Fade energies under an open sky due to a missing roof. It didn’t take long for the guards and two mages to realise they weren’t alone anymore. Unfortunately, they thought that trying to take out both the newcomers _and_ the demons at the same time was a fantastic idea.

 _Bleeding Tevinters. No sense in any way, shape or form!_ Asala cursed as she dodged between pillars to avoid spells, throw her own magic and cast barriers around Iron Bull. Dorian kept to the earlier command and tried to see to both Leliana and Sera, but the battlefield was a mess! With so many hostile targets, and the demons moving sporadically, attacking anyone in sight, they were soon spread all over the place. She dodged a fire spell flung at her head just in time to avoid the worst of the burnt. It broke her already wilting barrier and singed her bare shoulder, leaving her cursing at the pain. This was such. a. bloody. joke! She pressed an arcane barrage into the face of a shade at point blank range, watching it explode in front of her.

It was all a mess. The Inquisition was broken, nations sundered, people were suffering and still, _still_ Leliana had shown defiance. Why?! Did it mean that there actually was someone out there still alive and trying to fight back? So many could have, _should have_ , done things even in her present, yet they hadn’t. So many… unenlightened fools! Now here she was, fighting alongside dying people for a dying world in hopes of _maybe_ getting back to undo all of this! If they got back, it could still wind up looking like this! And then there was the chance of not getting back at all or even _dying_ in the attempt. Dying in a world that was already almost gone. Was it better to not risk it and try to work from here? Had all nations fallen? What of the Qunari? How much was there left here that could be saved? There had to be something, right? Connor had resisted this long and he had been susceptible to the Breach.

Asala just barely managed to throw up a barrier before a guard’s blade bit into her. They didn’t have enough front line fighters to manage an assault like this. Iron Bull alone couldn’t do this. She shoved the attacking guard back with a kick to the solar plexus and froze him with a winter’s grasp. This just wasn’t doable— She was suddenly roughly shoved forward, crashing into the frozen guard and brought them both tumbling to the floor. He broke into a thousand icy pieces. Ew. Asala had a second to roll out of the way before a blade came down where her midsection had just been. Her barrier had taken the burnt and saved her from being skewered. The only reason it had survive such a blow was because protective magic was one of her specialities, healing being the other. But good or no, she couldn’t just lie there and let the newcomer wale on her. The barrier would break in the end. She quickly got to her feet, dodging another blow and very happy for her light clothing that made it possible. It was the only bloody bright point right now. He was so damned close, it was all she could do to keep backing or blocking. She grit her teeth hard. Energy began crackling in her fist. She was so. damned. bleeding. _tired_. of these idiots! She’d had just about—

“ _Pashaara!_ ” She swung her arm forward, an arc of bright light following her fist. “<I’ve just about had enough of your bullshit! Of your ill-conceived glory seeking! Of your piss poor logic! Of the _base desires_ ruling your every decision! >” With each angry curse she swung, pouring all her frustration about the magister, the Venatori, the idiots who didn’t do their duty in her time and the complete and utter waste of lives that had led to this future. When blood suddenly sprayed in front of her, splattering her face, she blinked at the scene before her. She hadn’t as much seen it during the last few moments as felt it. The guard had crumbled before her, his _metal_ armour ravaged by rough slashes that appeared to have burnt edges. What had caused the strong spray of blood was the cut neck, a wound as lethal for its depth as its capacity to drown the man by his own blood pooling into his lungs. She was breathing heavily, harshly, as her eyes slowly dropped to her side and the energy humming there. That energy began flickering now, gently and sporadically, but it still held its shape. Her right hand held a blade of _pure arcane energy_. It flickered in time with her heartbeat now as she stared. She didn’t have a staff and using only magical spells as a means of offence was tiring but… what was this? It wasn’t tiring, it was just… Focusing on her hand made the fluctuation in the energy pattern stop, solidifying the blade a bit more.

Asala gripped the hilt, or what looked like a hilt, harder. The blade began to emit a steady hum of magic again. They _were_ short on front line fighters and she didn’t have a staff… She shifted her eyes to the remaining foes. If it did the job, then so be it, whatever it was. For the Inquisition, to do what they needed her to do, she’d take it. It did the job she needed of it and that was enough.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Vishante kaffas – You shit on my tongue (Tevene)  
> Pashaara - Enough
> 
> Here's to natural development of characters, responsibilities and skills. Cheers.  
> For those of you who picked up on what skills Asala is beginning to slip into in this chapter, you get an internet cookie. I like it when things appear to come naturally and this, as well as her accepting the position as leader of the Inquisition, is as natural and fitting for the story as I probably can make it for her particular circumstances.
> 
> I've thought on this a bit and this is, in my opinion, the order in which the Inquisitor origins are most to least likely to be prepared for a role as the Herald/Inquisitor:  
> 1\. human (non-mage: as a lord/lady, you'd be taught to cope in these situations and how to lead, even as a second or third child)  
> 2\. dwarf (any: you're one of the higher members of the carta, being groomed for possible succession, dealing with more than your own race unlike the elven mage)  
> 3\. elf (mage: you're the Keeper's First, you're trained to see to your clan and the Inquisition is that, in a sense, but on a bigger scale)  
> 4\. qunari (any: if rp'ed as someone who didn't have any higher rank within any mercenary company you were a member of, you'd be no 5)  
> 5\. human (mage: you've been in the Circle all your life, not expected to lead anyone but perhaps mentor ten apprentices during your lifetime)  
> 6\. elf (non-mage: you're a hunter, meant to support the clan with food and see to their safety but that's it)  
> Just food for thought.


	19. Chapter 19

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The confrontation with Alexius is at hand. The question of whether the horrific future can be undone or not will be answered.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Congratulations, you've now read the word count equivalent of an average adult fiction book. (80,000-89,000 words)  
> If this was a book, I'd end it after the return from Redcliffe or the assault on Haven and the avalanche burying everything. Although cliffhangers only work when you don't already know what's going to happen. Heh.

It didn’t take long before the last man and demon had dropped to the floor. Maybe it was that the enemy’s fortune had turned or the general “had it up to here” sentiment that flowed through the members of the Inquisition present. There was no way to tell. As they gathered at the centre of the entrance hall, Dorian turned to regard Asala closely.

“You are well, I take it?” At her slow nod, the man gave one in return. “I didn’t know you were a knight enchanter. That titbit could have been good to share.”

Asala blinked at him confusedly. “What do you mean?” Both Dorian’s brows rose.

“That energy sword? The one you began skewering people with after running around yelling like a lunatic?” She had been yelling, hadn’t she? But… Asala felt ice begin to creep up her spine as she thought back to that moment. She’d been yelling in…

“Can’t say I’m surprised at you losing your temper, boss. It seemed like something overdue,” Iron Bull commented just off to the side. She couldn’t make herself turn that little bit to catch him in her peripheral vision though. “Hadn’t expected you to be _that_ fluent in Qunlat though.” His comment seemed to dislodge the cramp holding her lungs prisoner and she dragged in a deep breath. She _had_ been yelling in Qunlat. Of all things… She could _not_ lose it like that, not again… or rather, not if they managed to get back to the present. That last bit… It’d been far too pointed a remark, his voice intoned just _so_. If that was all it took for him to get a clue about her secrets… then she couldn’t speak in Qunlat while he was around, not back in the present. She’d take this mistake and never redo it again. Silently thanking whatever fortune allowed her to make this mistake here, where it hopefully would never matter, she gave a terse nod.

“Can we leave that for another time?” she requested hoarsely. Dorian didn’t know, couldn’t know a lot about her in any way, shape or form. The likelihood of anyone back in the present listening to the speculations of a Tevinter man, no matter how helpful, about anything their Herald of Andraste may be hiding was small. She didn’t wish to take any chances though. Focusing her eyes on the man in question, she voiced a question that was more important for the here and now. “What did you mean by knight enchanter?”

“I’m surprised you’re using the skills if you haven’t received any formal training, let alone heard of it,” Dorian confessed with genuine surprise, no mirth in sight as he crouched down by a slain mage. He did a quick survey of the man’s possessions as he spoke. “As I’ve understood it, it’s a skill fairly recently rediscovered here in the South. It’s based around using arcane energies alone to create a weapon and engage in a sort of magical melee fighting style. I apologise, but I’ve not studied it myself so that is all I know about it.” Asala nodded. Perhaps Solas or someone else at Haven would know about it. For now, all she needed to know was that it wasn’t harmful and that it worked.

“Is that the way to the main hall?” More than just Asala turned to look at where Sera was indicating. “It didn’t look like that before.” Asala had to agree; it looked similar but not the same. Dorian squinted at the object in the not too far distance for a second.

“I’d suggest taking a closer look after— hello? What’s this?” The man was holding a small, triangular box. Asala could hear the magical hum coming from it if she didn’t concentrate on tuning it out. What with so much magic and Fade energy running through the air, not to talk about the constant hiss of red lyrium, she’d zoned it out to be able to stand it all. Opening the box revealed a cushioned inside and a set of red lyrium crystals.

Asala’s face contorted into a small grimace. “Leave that. It’s red lyrium.”

“Yes,” Dorian agreed absently while calling a wisp of energy to the fingers of the hand not holding the box. “I just want to check something.” Asala frowned but let him. At least for a second. If he started acting strange, she’d ask Iron Bull to knock him out immediately. Only the Prophet knew if Alexius had become the way he was due to red lyrium or not. Although, he didn’t _appear_ to be affected by it. It would prove such an easy explanation but more than one thing about that didn’t ring true to her. So why had the man done as he’d done?

Tracing the magical energy he’d summoned over the pieces, Dorian’s eyes seemed to follow some intricate pattern, as though drawing an intricate rune with his eyes alone, before raising his gaze. It passed them all and landed on what looked like a door on the other end of the hall. “I think there’s a connection,” he said before Asala could tell him to put the stuff aside. “Let’s take a look and if not, I’ll leave it,” he promised as he closed the tiny box’s lid. At least he didn’t put the box anywhere on his person but held it at the ready as they moved up to the door. Asala hoped it would be as easy as snapping their fingers, gaining entrance to wherever Alexius was hiding, but worried that if it was, something else was off.

As they arrived at the huge door with its intricate but wholly unfamiliar design, Dorian wasted no time in examining it. “Maker’s breath! Where did Alexius find this?” Dorian muttered to himself as he traced outlines on the door with glowing fingers.

“I’ve never seen anything like it,” Asala agreed. “Do you think we can get it open?”

Dorian muttered something under his breath but it was too low. “Perhaps…” he mused speculatively. “It probably won’t move for force. How desperate and paranoid must he be?”

“Because he knew we didn’t die?”

“Maybe,” Dorian replied with a shrug. “Or maybe there’s another reason…” He trailed off as he opened the tiny box he’d swiped earlier and held up one of the lyrium shards before his eyes. “I may have it.” Slotting a crystal into one of the indentions in the door, it began to glow faintly. Dorian let out a low but pleased sound before slotting in the rest of the box’s content. Once they were all in place, the crystals glowed brighter. A second later, a grinding noise began to emit from the door as they slowly opened on their own. Dorian quickly stood up and took a step to the side but as no one fell upon them immediately, Asala strode past the man and into the room. The others followed swiftly.

The throne room itself wasn’t too different, despite having had a new door installed. The heavy object closed slowly behind them but as there were only two other people, Asala didn’t think it mattered much. Alexius was standing by the fire, staring into the leaping flames, but didn’t move an inch at the noise of them entering or drawing near. The other person was crouching nearby but he seemed much more gone than even the elven youth in the dungeon.

“So, was it worth it? It’s looking awfully green out there, and not in the healthy way,” Asala criticised with an exasperated frown. The least he could do was turn around and face his mistakes and them. “Maybe the destruction and pain of the South was just a bonus?” So many lives needlessly ended or injured. The South may have flaws but this was an utter waste.

“I did what I had to do,” the man on the dais said without remorse, just the dreadful calm of someone who knew his work had come to an end. “Everything I did was for my country, my son…” His voice broke slightly and a second passed before he spoke again. “But it means nothing now.”

“I’m inclined to disagree,” Asala countered with a grimace. At least she hoped she could disagree. If what Dorian had theorised didn’t work… She didn’t know where to start in that case. One thing she knew though, it’d have to be a thing they sorted _if_ it came up. There was no use rushing to the worst option just yet. They had at least a little bit of time before that.

“Pointless hoping and fighting…” Alexius shook his head. “There is no longer anywhere to run, there is no reason to fight.” She almost felt inclined to accusing him of sounding Qunari but didn’t wish to give Dorian even the slightest bit of idea. For ill and for good, he would remember everything from this dismal place, just as she would. “I knew you would appear again. Not that it would be now, but I knew I hadn’t destroyed you. My final failure,” Alexius added with a deep sigh.

Dorian had been quiet until now but his face wasn’t happy, it wasn’t even angry, just sad. “Was it worth it? Everything you did to the world?” he demanded softly from his former mentor. “To yourself?” He was trying to find some sort of trace of the man he’d once known and respected, Asala assumed. Alexius had meant a lot to Dorian, which, as she understood the word “mentor”, he should have. While a tamassran might raise a child until it’s a youth and then assign a role, for the next few years the child would have a mentor to learn their role from. Such a relationship usually became strong. She’d been taught her role by the same woman who raised her, so there had already been a good ground to start from. It didn’t lessen her respect and affection for the other Qunari.

“It doesn’t matter now. All we can do is wait for the end.” For all the dreadful calm and acceptance of something so wrong, there were notes of sorrow and regret hidden almost out of sight and sound within Alexius’s words. Asala still believed in so many points that the Qun taught but this, all of it, wasn’t right by anyone’s standard. Not the South and not the Qun, she felt fairly certain of that. If his serene acceptance had been applied to almost anything else, been _caused_ by almost anything else, Asala would have considered him to maybe have done well under the Qun.

“It _does_ matter.” Asala disagreed sharply. “I will undo this.” She _had_ to succeed, _they all_ had to succeed. The alternative wasn’t an option. No matter the cost, they had to succeed.

Alexius turned around at that to stare at her. When he spoke however, he didn’t seem to see her at all, as though he was talking to someone not there. “How many times have I tried? The past cannot be undone.” He shook his head and turned back towards the fire as he continued, voice growing harder. “All that I fought for, all that I betrayed, and what have I wrought?” He snorted, the derision in the sound thick and for no one but himself. “Ruin and death. There is nothing else. And here, at the very end, what comes? Irony.” That one word sounded thick enough to choke upon. “For _you_ to appear _now_ , of all the possibilities…” He shook his head and calm once again descended upon his words. “The Elder One comes; for me, for you, for us all.”

Something moved off to the side, near the crouching figure. Casting a swift glance that way, Asala noticed Leliana. She hadn’t even realised the woman had left! Alexius appeared to notice her almost simultaneously as he whirled around but not before the spymaster grabbed hold of the collar of the crouching, unmoving shadow of a man. Jerking the poor wretch upright, Leliana had a blade at his throat so suddenly it almost appeared to be magic.

“Felix!”

Asala’s eyes widened as she stared. How could that…?! She didn’t need to voice her incredulity; Dorian did it for them all. “That’s _Felix_?” he sounded both horrified and disbelieving, then he turned angry eyes onto the older man. “Maker’s breath, Alexius, what have you done?!” It was a very good question. The young man looked like a ghost… or like he should have been ready to become one. There was something about the man that appeared to echo in Leliana’s appearance but Asala couldn’t put her finger on what or if it was just her imagination. Maybe because Felix looked fit for the grave since… a month ago at the very least!

“He would have died _,_ Dorian!” Alexius argued brokenly without taking his eyes off his son. He’d grasped his staff from where it’d lain discarded nearby but he wasn’t moving any closer. “I did the only thing I could. I _saved_ him!” If that was saved, in any sense of the word, Asala wasn’t interested in seeing what the alternative would have been. Looking at the young man though, with the knowledge of who he was, did make certain things clear. Alexius’s actions, all of this… What had Felix said mere hours ago to Dorian and her perspective? He was going to die no matter what.

Alexius’s eyes left his son at last but only meet the spymaster’s flinty gaze. “Please, don’t hurt my son. I’ll do anything you ask.” The plea was a heartfelt one, you didn’t need ears to realise that; it was visible on the magister’s face. From what Asala could see of Leliana’s face, so difficult to read after the torture compared to the vivacious and youthful visage of a year before, she wasn’t inclined to let the Tevinter go no matter what. Asala shook her head.

“You tried but you used the wrong methods. That is not saving in anyone’s eyes.” Alexius didn’t take his eyes off Leliana but Asala was certain she had his ears. “Sometimes… we fail, and we must let go. For the sake of everyone who remain if nothing else.” That wasn’t saving. If that’d been one of her charges… Only the Prophet knew how far she would have gone for one of her charges, to aid, to heal, to _save_ , but there were points you didn’t cross. She… wouldn’t have crossed this one. It wasn’t mercy and it certainly wasn’t love. “That isn’t life, Alexius,” she said with a gentle voice, shaking her head slowly. “You have simply withheld from death something that already belongs to it. It is torture.” If Felix still had his mind, even a tiny bit of it, and was trapped within his own flesh… The horror couldn’t be described! “Leliana, gently.” She didn’t need to say more. The spymaster took the blade, quickly and cleanly, to the young man’s throat. Alexius’s eyes flew wide.

“No!” For a second he was frozen, his face a mask of horror and pain, but then he came to life. “NO!” The staff slammed into the floor and Leliana tumbled backwards from the force of the numbing mind blast. It was powerful enough that it threatened to buckle even Asala’s knees and she wasn’t as close as the other woman.

It all went downhill from there. The man had a formidable skill in barrier spells, making it almost impossible for Iron Bull to get through. Asala tried to get back into that zone she’d been in during the fight in the hall outside. She needed that energy blade back! She could finally see, and truly understand, what had been so bad about the Tevinter magisters in Seheron. She’d never fought someone so well-versed in offensive magic! The attempt to focus to form the arcane blade, the knight enchanter’s blade or whatever it was called!, as well as the speedier rate she burned up her power by throwing spells without a staff wasn’t conductive to a lengthy battle. She either had to give up on one or the other. And then the magister did something, causing the air the ripple above them. Asala’s mark suddenly flared to life, shooting a burning sensation up the entire length of her arm as a rift tore open above. It had never hurt this much before but rifts usually didn’t tear open in a matter of seconds! It built for a period of ten to thirty easy heartbeats. This was unnatural. As shades began to drip out, the magister pulled on the glowing energy of the rift. It went to him, twisting and turning as though unwilling, before being shaped into a nearly opaque dome that encased him.

“You’ve got to get this thing down, boss!” Iron Bull called as his axe kept screeching against the magic as though it was steel. “I can’t get through at all.” Asala whipped her head away from the rift and the barrier she’d just cast around it in an attempt to lock in the demons and shut out the power the magister was siphoning. The barrier wouldn’t hold the demons for long and the power seemed unaffected by the blockade.

“Your fight is doomed, much like this world!” Alexius’s voice was loud and clear, dripping with fury and vengeance though he was hardly visible. “My life may be forfeit but it doesn’t matter! Maybe your death shall suffice as an apology to the Elder One!” Asala grit her teeth as a shade’s claws began to peek through the shield above them. She would be _damned_ if this was how it ended, in this bleak horror of a future! Sweat was running down the side of her face. She couldn’t keep this up. None of them could. They needed a change of tactics. If the power from the rift couldn’t be blocked, then the source needed to be killed. Simple, right? Ha, ha… She took a deep breath. She just had to focus. Pull arcane energies to her and… what? Picture a blade? She hoped that was it.

“Coming through!” Sera’s voice almost made Asala twitch right out of her concentration but she managed to force herself to ignore it. They were good, they could handle a few demons without her. What they _couldn’t_ handle was the rift, that was her job. She could feel the hum of magic all around her, that was nothing new, it was just stronger now due to the rift. She had to draw it in and focus it on her hand until… She could almost feel power vibrating in her fist now. Solas had given her all the hints he had on how to focus and stay clear of mind, both in the waking world and the Fade. It was up to her to make them work in practice. Something was drawing closer, the push of power and smell of burnt ashes told her as much. A sudden breeze and a faint shriek just in front of her, as well as the small splatter of… something hitting her face, told her that Iron Bull had most likely taken out whatever demon had drawn too close. Gripping harder around the energy in her hand, she felt it flare.

Now or never. They couldn’t wait any longer.

It was that same blade as before when she opened her eyes, it flickered in time with the rift’s sporadic undulating but held. For now, it’d have to do. The others had the demons under control. Asala turned her marked hand to the rift and twirled the energy around her fingers, dug deep into the power then closed her hand around it in a harsh grip and _jerked_. The rift sputtered, fought for a second, then bowed and began to flow into her hand. Tension in the energy stream leading to Alexius’s shield became visible as the lines of twisting energy began to almost zig-zag between the two. Asala renewed her grip and jerked again, harder, biting her teeth together in a fierce scowl. The rifts were _her_ thing. She would be _damned_ if she allowed a Tevinter magister such control over them. Especially when this was how he used them! There were limits you just didn’t cross, not for any reason, any person or any feeling you harboured yourself. _That_ was responsibility! Alexius may shirk his but she, even if she didn’t want it, wouldn’t shirk hers now that she had it. She would do as required of her, even if she hated it.

Asit tal-eb. Anaan esaam Qun.

The rift exploded in a sea of light above them, quickly succeeded by the grand barrier up on the dais, before all energy quickly drained into her hand. No one needed to be told. They only had a second during which Alexius was stunned by the sudden rupture of the power in the air but they used it.

It was Sera who managed the killing blow, releasing two arrows in one go. One pierced deep into the magister’s skull and lodged while the other struck a bit higher and peeked out on the other hand. The man crumbled quickly, instantly. A deathly quiet calm settled upon the hall for the first time. Even when they came here to negotiate and when they broke through the ward on the door not too long ago, the air had held tension. Now it was silent as the grave.

Dorian slowly, laboriously, moved up to the fallen man. Kneeling down, he closed his mentor’s open eyes. It was a last, respectful gesture. Asala didn’t mind giving it to him. The man was dead now. If Dorian wished to see to the body properly, in some small form anyway, he could have it. A few moments passed before she walked up to where he still crouched.

“He wanted to die, didn’t he.” She assumed he’d heard the approach and guessed that it was her, or he just needed to state the thought aloud, no matter who was there to respond to it. By the sentence’s grammar, it was a question but his voice made it a statement. Grief. “All those lies he told himself, the justifications…” Dorian shook his head, closing his eyes. “He lost Felix long ago and didn’t even notice. Oh, Alexius…” The man had had hope, she couldn’t fault him that. But there were hopeful actions and then there was unforgivable desperation. She didn’t say it though; Dorian didn’t need to hear it. She was certain he already knew anyway.

“You cared for him and you did what you could,” she told him gently. “But in the end, you did what was right, as he had taught you.” She made a guess but from what she knew of Dorian’s values and sentiments, which honestly wasn’t much but she hoped was enough, she felt that was a correct assumption. A corner of the man’s mouth crawled upwards very gently.

“Once he was a man I compared to all others. Funny how that works…” A few heartbeats passed before he stood up, holding out an open palm. It wasn’t empty though. “This is the same amulet he used before, I’m sure of it.” Asala didn’t say but hoped her appreciation for his getting right back on track showed on her face. “I think it’s even the same one we made in Minrathous. That’s a relief,” Dorian explained as he studied the trinket. Turning it over in his hands, he finally nodded. “Give me an hour to work out the spell he used, and I should be able to reopen the rift.” Asala raised her brows at him. An hour? Well… if that was what it—

“An hour? That’s impossible!” Leliana choked out as she came up to them. She’d either overheard or gotten fed up with waiting. She had little patience to spare for the magister and any positive feelings connected to him, Asala understood and respected that. She didn’t have many either. “You must go now!” she ground out as she speared first Dorian and then Asala with her steel grey eyes.

“What? Why are you—?”

A sudden shudder ran through the castle, causing dust to fall from the ceiling before another, stronger shake followed it. A muted shriek echoed dimly in the distance but the fact that it was heard at all meant whatever rent the sky with its cry… was big. Asala cast her eyes skywards even though the roof was still in place in here, unlike in the hall outside. There was no way of telling what was outside. “What was that?” she breathed into the suddenly oppressive silence.

“The Elder One.”

Asala’s eyes snapped back to Leliana. “ _That_ is the Elder One?” The woman grit her teeth but didn’t answer the Qunari. Behind her, Sera began casting her eyes this way and that, as though something would come out of the walls.

“Frig. Frig! That’s how they won,” she hissed under her breath, fear not only evident in her voice but also etched into her face. “How _it_ won.”

“ _What_ is it?” Asala demanded sharply. Sera’s eyes went to her but didn’t make it all the way there before she turned back and caught Iron Bull’s gaze. A solemn silence passed between them and, finally, a mutual nod.

“We’ll head out front,” the Qunari said, hefting his axe onto his shoulder in preparation. Asala stared. What? “Keep them off your tail.”

“No.” It was out of her mouth before she could even consider it. She grit her teeth. She had _just_ said it herself, hadn’t she? “I…” She dragged in a deep breath, teeth still pressed harshly together. If this was the only way… _Maraas shokra._ She exhaled in a long, ragged sigh then forced her face into a harsh but small grin. “We’ll succeed.” _Asit tal-eb. Anaan esaam Qun. Ataash esaam katoh._

Leliana met her gaze and gave a curt but adamant nod. When the outer door fell, she would give her all and after that… After that they _had_ to be gone. There were no ifs, buts or maybes. Do or die had never been more true. Leliana unknowingly echoed the unspoken sentiment. “The only way we live is if this day never comes.”

“Then it won’t,” Asala assured her. She didn’t feel the least sure of her own words but… for them, and for herself, she needed to appear as though she did. It’d give them assurance. Her charges had been the same way. If tama said it was true and tama appeared to believe it… then it was. All was as it was meant to be.

As Iron Bull and Sera headed for the door, Leliana gave her one last glance before transferring it to Dorian. “Cast your spell. You have as much time as I have arrows,” she stated but her eyes said that even if she ran out of projectiles and lost her daggers, she’d use her bare hands if so need be. Behind her, the door opened to allow the others through. Had Leliana been a mage, Asala wouldn’t have doubted that the woman would have promised the Qunari her lifeblood as well.

A tightness seized Asala’s heart as the door began grinding shut. Unable to resist, she tore loose a fistful of arcane energy, feeling it burn as it passed through her system into her hand, and cast a strong barrier spell upon the other Qunari and elf before they disappeared out of view. Then, turning sharply, she followed Dorian up onto the dais, to the exact same spot as Alexius had stood in the present when he opened the rift that sent them here. She had to focus. Even if she wasn’t the one to do the spell, she’d need her wit. She had to empty her mind of everything outside that crystal-lock door, beyond this dais even. As a crackling noise began beside her, she opened her eyes and focused them on Dorian. Anything beyond this dais… was void. All that mattered was here and now. Sera… Asala grit her teeth. The girl was alive and well in the present.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Asit tal-eb. Anaan esaam Qun. – The way things are meant to be. Victory is in the Qun.  
> Maraas shokra. – There’s nothing to struggle against.  
> Ataash esaam katoh. – Fulfilment is found in the achievement.
> 
> You know, I completely forgot Leliana looks that bad because of the darkspawn blood. Then again, you'd only know that if you'd read the codex/experiment log, which Asala haven't, so yeah. I don't regret it.
> 
> And yes, Bull is good, but he's also had a year to mull things over, but still. He's good. Also, as someone who grew up with different languages around me, I can confirm that languages are just THAT telling, especially if you're good or looking for it.


	20. Chapter 20

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The aftermath of what historians would come to call the Redcliffe Incident is cleared up. A return to Haven and confrontation with the war council is imminent.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If this story wasn't meant to follow the game fairly accurately, I would have considered making their return to the present impossible and set the rest of the story in this dismal future for a very severe change of scenery. Not nice but certainly a loaded story idea.  
> Instead, have a rapid-fire update. With fireworks. Everybody loves fireworks, right?

It didn’t take long before the noise of a fight could be heard from beyond the tightly closed door. Asala shut it out as best she could, keeping her eyes locked on Dorian. She didn’t need to see though. She could _hear_ it, hear the pressure beating dully against the stone door. Asala screwed her eyes shut and repeated yet again the lines that had always enabled her to keep going before. They had never done so little for her determination as they did right now.

“Though darkness closes, I am shielded by flame.” Leliana’s words reached her ears, soft and smoothly flowing. She knew they weren’t spoken softly; it wasn’t that they were a whisper but more that _she_ couldn’t shut them out completely. A lot of people’s lives depended upon their success. Failure was not an option.

A loud crash resounded through the room. The door had failed. Asala opened her eyes but kept them stubbornly on Dorian’s concentrated face. The spell looked so close to completion…

“Andraste, guide me. Maker, take me to your side.” The words became a murmur and Asala didn’t know if it was her being able to shut them out at last, the buzz of magic right beside her that drowned them out or the sound of demons screeching that swallowed them nearly whole. It didn’t matter. As long as she didn’t turn from the spell before them, it did _not_ matter. Just don’t look and it won’t matter.

A cry resounded from further down the hall, the voice all too familiar. Asala grit her teeth. She would not turn now. Her eyes locked with Dorian’s as he finally took them, if only for a second, off the amulet hovering, spinning wildly, above his palm. They _had_ to succeed and they _had_ to leave. Now. His eyes held a shred of worry. Asala ground her teeth harshly, the noise reverberating in her ears.

“If you need more time, _I_ will give it to you. Any warning is better than none,” she hissed harshly, angrily. They _would not_ fail. Dorian’s face contorted into an furious grimace and the buzz around the amulet grew exponentially. _Dangerously_ so.

And then the green light crackling in front of them exploded, expanding into a swirling vortex. This was it. Any second now… She couldn’t help it, she cast a glance back. A Tevinter mage had the spymaster’s limbs locked and a demon was drawing closer, already raising its arm for the killing blow. Their eyes met. Asala pressed her teeth together harder, hearing the distant but mental warning bell saying that her teeth could break from the pressure. Energy flared behind her. Dorian’s hand was on her arm suddenly.

_I swear, we will change this._

Asala turned away, facing the vortex of magical energy that suddenly seemed to draw them closer and expand to swallow all that didn’t move away. And then a flash of blinding light.

She closed her eyes just in time. The darkness behind her eyelids wasn’t pitch and tiny spots danced there but it hadn’t robbed her of her sight completely. The assumption was confirmed when the din of demons and quaking castle foundations died to be replaced by gasps. Blinking her eyes open, a warmly lit, untouched throne room of Redcliffe Castle appeared before her. They were back…

A few metres away, Alexius was staring wide-eyed at them. “You’ll have to do better than that,” Dorian spoke up behind her. It was amazing how quickly he recovered to deliver the comment with a light touch of humorous wit… or maybe he was just that good at pretending. If you can fool yourself, you can often fool others; she knew the truth of that one all too well. She approached Alexius with calm but determined steps. As the shock dwindled, he sank to the floor. Disbelief and defeat filling his visage. Asala met his sad eyes with an even, almost uncaring, stare. Felix was standing nearby.

All of this, everything that had happened and the consequences that followed in that dismal future, was due to Alexius’s care for his son. Asala closed her eyes and let out a tiny sigh. “Put aside any and all claims you hold here, in Ferelden, Orlais and the nations beyond Tevinter’s borders, and you will survive this day.” Had she not been in that future, not seen what she saw there, not been through everything she’d been through from the Conclave up until now… Could she honestly say she wouldn’t have done almost as much, if not exactly as much, for anyone she considered her charge? She didn’t have an answer for that and that, more than anything, scared her. She had more control than ever over her magic thanks to the events since the Conclave but she could possibly have gotten here on her own with time, especially if she’d remained with the Valo-Kas or at least continued a similar lifestyle.

Nearly all Southerners held their children like she had held her charges on Par Vollen, like she still did, to a degree, anyone young enough to be in her charge or appeared to need her in that capacity. She would not judge the man for actions that could have easily been her own. Had he not been a parent and just a mage… It didn’t matter now. There was no point dwelling on it.

“You won.” It was breathed out as a heavy sigh. Alexius turned his head to stare sorrowfully at his son. “There is no point extending this… charade.” The young man gave his father a gentle smile. “Felix…” The younger Tevinter moved closer before sinking down into a crouch beside his seated parent.

“It’s going to be all right, father.”

“You’ll die.” The regret was thick and bitter.

Felix regarded his father before sadness, at last, entered his eyes and voice. “Everyone dies.” He had long since accepted his fate. Finally, his father had, too, and he didn’t have to work against the man. It appeared a great relief to him, if Asala could read him correctly. It sent her thoughts to her charges. Would they have tried to protect her? Make her accept her magic and live as the Qun dictated? She honestly had no idea. It was… a sad thought. She almost wished she’d remained so she could have gotten it answered. Almost…

Two Inquisition agents stepped forward and Alexius, with one last look at his son, rose slowly, carefully, and turned to face them. “Careful.” It was only one word but it was calm, almost gentle and aimed at the agents. They glanced at Asala but then nodded, apparently understanding that she wanted a fair treatment of the two Tevinter men. It was an odd thing, asking for gentler treatment of a Tevinter, especially a mage, instead of harsher. In the end, they were all mortal, weren’t they?

“Well!” Dorian came up beside her. “I’m glad that’s over with—” The sudden bang of doors opening resounded from the entrance hall. When the sound of numerous footsteps followed, they both frowned. Heavily armoured soldiers came marching into the throne room, lining up on each side of the hall, mirroring the Tevinters who’d stood there mere moments ago as far as everyone else was concerned. To Asala and Dorian it had been hours. “Or not,” the man grumbled beside her. She kind of agreed with the tired air that hung around him. Indeed, apparently not yet. Inhaling, Asala wiped any emotion from her face and turned to face the entrance. There was a couple approaching, authoritative bearing.

“Grand Enchanter, we’d like to discuss your abuse of our hospitality.” The man, while dressed for speedy travel, was obviously someone in power. Considering how he came with a woman at his side whose face radiated as much displeasure and authority as his, Asala chanced a guess that this was the king and queen of Ferelden. She’d only heard descriptions but Josephine had said the arl of Redcliffe had ridden for the capital to request assistance. Who else could this be if not them?

Fiona carefully moved forward, her whole shape practically vibrating with worry. “Your majesties,” she acknowledged them humbly. If her manner was to cover up her fear and anxiety, Asala wasn’t surprised. This had gone from dealing with the Inquisition to the very people who had offered them leave to stay in their country. The mages had gone above the monarchs when they invited the Tevinters to stay. Seeing the mess they made, and the mess they _could have_ made, Asala didn’t begrudge the rulers their anger. The Inquisition itself had come here partially because of all the innocent bystanders that could have been caught by the magister’s magic.

“When we offered the mages sanctuary, we did not give them the right to drive our people from their homes,” the queen spoke irately. True that. Asala withheld a sigh. She _could_ leave now, was sure the rest of the Inquisition would follow, and leave this all for the monarchs to take care of and for the mages to sort their shit out on their own. They’d earned that dubious pleasure. Then again… last time they tried to sort it, it had the Inquisition involved. She couldn’t keep the small sigh locked in this time. They had to stay for a little longer, didn’t they?

“King Alistair, Queen Anora, I assure you, we never intended—”

“In light of your actions, good intentions are no longer enough!” the queen retorted harshly. Asala guessed she could learn something by watching this. Harsher words if nothing else.

“You and your followers have worn out your welcome,” the king added with a glare. “Leave Ferelden, or we’ll be forced to make you leave.” It was a threat as much as a promise.

“But…!” Panic flitted through the Grand Enchanter’s eyes momentarily. “We have hundreds who need protection! Where will we go?”

“That, Grand Enchanter, is something you should have thought about before you invited a Tevinter magister to Redcliffe,” Alistair replied with the sort of sharpness that implied it was not a matter up for debate. Asala swallowed another sigh and stepped down from the dais and walked over to the trio.

“You’ll be leaving here with the Inquisition,” she replied, garnering more than just the eyes from the trio before her. Fiona’s brows rose towards her hairline then descended again in a faint frown. She was wary, as she well should be. Asala remembered their disagreement and her own rebuke of the mages a few hours ago. To Fiona, it had to be even fresher.

“And what are the terms of this arrangement?”

A thousand thoughts raced through Asala’s head at that particular question.

“After this? Stick ‘em up a tower,” Sera quipped a few metres behind the Qunari. Asala managed to keep her lips in check despite the wish to chuckle. Fair enough.

“Hopefully better than what Alexius gave you.” Dorian was the one to give the sensible reply. “The Inquisition _is_ better than that, yes?” he asked the rhetorical question with a raised brow and only a fraction of his usual humour. The man had decided to be serious for a longer than average amount of time, it appeared.

Fiona frowned but a second later her face smoothed out and she regarded Asala with a nearly serene expression. She had either come to terms with the fact or was hiding her thoughts. “It seems we have little choice but to accept whatever you offer.” Asala had to agree. She’d be well pissed off if they had started arguing with her now after all that had happened…

“We did not come here to solve your problems. We came here because of the unstable magic that utilised natural faults the Breach had rendered weak, faults that were exploited due to your actions. You will surrender yourselves as conscripts of the Inquisition. As for what happens after the Breach is closed and any other lingering consequences have been seen to, that will be a matter for later. I will give fair warning however, if anything like what happened here happens again… this will be considered lenient,” Asala finished with a glare. Was it hypocritical of her to do this? She didn’t know but she didn’t feel it was. They had made their beds and now they would sleep in them.

Fiona looked miserable. “We shouldn’t have accepted the magister’s 'help', I know, but—”

“Own your mistakes with a little bit of dignity!” Asala hissed in a low voice as she bent down slightly, glaring at the Grand Enchanter. “You had no authority to invite the Tevinter and yet you did.” Standing straight again, she raised her voice. “The sky has been torn open and we’re _all_ in immediate danger. What happened here, what also _could_ have happened, is bad enough. There’s no room for failure now, hence you are conscripts. I do not want to go to another country and clean up such a mess as this again simply because you had to leave Ferelden.”

“If the Inquisition wants the mages, it can have them. However, we want them gone by sundown tomorrow,” the king demanded. Asala turned towards the man and inclined her head respectfully.

“King Alistair, Queen Anora, the Inquisition will make sure your demand is obeyed. However, to make it flow smoothly, there is a request we would like you to consider.” The monarchs’ expressions didn’t change much but they seemed willing to listen at the very least. Asala softened her stance a degree. There was no need to appear as though she was trying to force the issue or intimidate them. “I request permission to momentarily leave the Tevinter magister and his son at Redcliffe Castle, under our guard and responsibility, until the mages are moved and we can see to the magister properly. We request this in deference to our forces being spread thin… and because his son is deathly ill. We would see to his safe journey home before we deal with his father.” She could give Felix that much at least. He had helped them.

Alistair frowned as Anora studied her silently for a few heartbeats, then they glanced at one another. Some unspoken communication was exchanged until, finally, Alistair nodded. “Very well. The Crown of Ferelden shall accept the Inquisition’s request.” Asala inclined her head gratefully.

“The Inquisition thanks you for your patience and understanding.”

“I’ll go prepare for the journey to Haven,” Fiona noted quietly, causing Asala to glance over at her. “We must all do what we can to restore peace to a world that sorely needs it,” she finished with a quick bow. At least she wasn’t about to offer any trouble, Asala was relieved. There was too much to do for that.

****************

Once the immediate problems had been sorted, they all gathered outside the castle gates. Their situation now was more than a little problematic. They hadn’t come here expecting to leave with anyone. A select few of the mages would travel today while the rest packed up everything else and started their journey tomorrow with the younger members of the rebellion. They couldn’t just send the mages on their way with the few agents that had come with Asala and her companions for the infiltration, could they? It sounded ludicrous and not a bit responsible. Asala wasn’t happy in the least but the logical option was to leave the agents Leliana had provided behind to see to that the mages arrived safely, or at least caused and met no trouble on the way. It’d mean that her group headed back to Haven with the mages that would leave today. She assumed the war council would want to know what happened, and… She heaved a tired sigh. There was the matter of the demon army and the assassination of the Orlesian empress mentioned in the future. If nothing else, they could be useful tools when dealing with the templars _if_ they posed obstinate to the point of painful. Also, the sooner Leliana could start looking into the matters, the better. So many things to be done and these were just the major points.

In the end, there was no other viable course of action and, after gathering up the mages who were ready to travel, they set out for Haven. They could get a few hours of travel done before the day ended. Asala saw to that a message was sent to the Bull’s Chargers and the Inquisition messenger that were heading for Therinfal Redoubt, warning them of a slight delay and what to say regarding it. Hopefully, it wouldn’t be major. The messenger and escort were likely to arrive at Therinfal before this group got to Haven due to the larger size and not everyone having horses. Asala wasn’t about to let the mages travel alone though. She doubted they would run away at first opportunity, but… she wouldn’t take the chance. Not when she’d declared the Inquisition responsible for them.

They were accompanied by Dorian on the way. His reasoning, the first one at least, was that he “adored the South to little pieces”. The more logical one, however, was that as the only other person who saw the possible future with his own eyes, he wanted to help make sure it didn’t come to pass. It also mattered that it was the sort of direction he _didn’t_ want his homeland to take and as such, he’d give any aid he could. He had proven invaluable in getting to Alexius and in stopping him. If Asala had been sent back in time alone, chances were she would have died without getting back to the present, much less gotten out of Redcliffe Castle. Then again, he was Tevinter, but… in this case, that didn’t seem to matter so much. He did what was right, even when he had to go against people he once looked up to. When she looked upon it from that perspective, he had proven himself more than he could imagine.

It took a day and a half longer to get back to Haven from Redcliffe than it had taken to get there but it didn’t matter. Despite it being after supper, a usually quieter time for the council, they gathered. On one hand; it was good. Quick in, quick out. On the other hand however… Asala could have gone without the arguing or the headache it threatened to birth.

“They have suffered enough! Why continue to mistreat them?” They hadn’t gotten far, only halfway up the nave, before words started flying left and right and they stopped making any progress at all. At least no one else was in there, and if they were… they were keeping well quiet and respectfully out of the sight for the illusion of privacy. Asala’s mind superimposed an echo of the future Leliana’s words onto the present one, considering the different aspects of the woman. _“And mages wonder why people fear them? No one should have such powers.”_ It was a comment she had passed to Dorian shortly after being freed and the product of horrendous torture. Still, there was merit to those words.

“It’s not mistreating them to take reasonable precautions!” Cullen retorted, apparently having had more than enough of those kind of statements already.

Josephine sighed tiredly and, true to her profession, tried to mediate peace. “Whatever you call it, the situation with the mages is unstable and likely to deteriorate, just as the Circles did,” she warned worriedly.

“It can’t be helped,” Asala replied with a shake of her head. Leliana turned annoyed eyes on her.

“What did you think we were doing, taking the mages prisoner?” She sounded tired as well as irate. She wasn’t the only one. For one annoyed moment, Asala wished the redhead had also been in the future. Maybe it would have tempered her views.

If Leliana had been at Redcliffe and this debate had begun the same day as they left, Asala would have lost her temper. Fast. For now, she believed… _hoped_ she could keep this particular topic short. Most of the mages accompanying them to Haven hadn’t been too happy and it had sawed away at Asala’s mood. She didn’t need an argument here over something that should be obvious.

“I am not going to repeat what I saw in the future,” Asala stated with finality in her voice. “The mages had no authority to invite the magister, yet they did. The mages not only invited, the also accepted his offer. How is that sane? The damage done even _without_ taking the future possibilities into account is bad enough!” she challenged exasperatedly.

“They didn’t have a choice.” The spymaster sounded as though she felt Asala should understand this matter better, or at least understand the mages’ side of the story better. Why? Because she was a mage? Hardly. That just meant she knew the dangers as well as, she hoped, they did. If she had given them anything more lenient than the status as conscripts, she wasn’t fit to even be talking to the war council, much less be part of the decision making, mark or no. Her unyielding stare mustn’t have been what Leliana wanted as a reply though, as she made an annoyed gesture with her hands. “It was Alexius or death!”

Asala’s eyes flashed dangerously. “Don’t you dare start on that!” she replied heatedly, slashing a hand in the air between them. “It wasn’t Alexius or death. They could have waited. They were in one of the most defensible castles in Ferelden! If they had any sense to them, no templar army would have harmed the villagers for want of the mages to come out and face them. The Crown of Ferelden invited them. Attacking them at Redcliffe would have meant a hostile action against a whole nation!” She understood that much. “I’ll tell you exactly what I told the Grand Enchanter in Val Royeaux; she failed her duty,” Asala told her almost venomously. “She failed it when she couldn’t contain mages from slipping away and attacking anyone in sight in the Hinterlands and she failed to provide them with safety. If she couldn’t lead them properly, she shouldn’t have dragged them all out into a world they weren’t prepared to live in.” She had grown up and been raised to be a part of the world but only because her magic manifested late and once there, she denied it before finally hiding it. She hadn’t been prepared for life in the South though, and to remedy that she had studied it as best she could before setting out to gain distance from her point of entry. The mages in the South had none of the former and had attempted to gain little or none of the latter. The Grand Enchanter hadn’t helped either. Maybe the mages had been too many to make it possible but in that case, the Grand Enchanter shouldn’t have taken them out of the Circles. Everyone who had a duty just seemed to be running for the bloody hills, howling at the moon! That, or they were just being plain childishly stupid or stubborn, thinking that, since everyone else did it, it was okay for them, too, to skip town or something! Leave everything to everyone else who weren’t meant, qualified or trained to do their job.

“If anything,” Asala added vehemently, “all this proves is that they cannot be used for the Breach! What with the mess they made in Redcliffe, we’d be bloody lucky if they didn’t cause the Breach to expand!” And gobbled up more than her this time. If that happened, there was no time transportation spell active to give them a free of charge re-do. Every life lost here…

“The temporal magic around Redcliffe was due to Alexius. We’ve already established that. They still deserve a chance to prove to the world that they can do good.”

“Enough arguing!” Cassandra declared with a glare levelled at both Leliana and Asala. Neither woman glanced at the seeker though as they stared angrily at each other. “None of us were there. We cannot afford to second-guess our people.”

“We need to go over any possible actions we can take to start figuring out how and when the assassination could take place, and that’s just one matter to deal with. Let’s take this to the war room, shall we? Adaar, join us—” Cullen offered but was cut short when the Qunari stomped past them all, heading towards the chantry doors. “Adaar?”

“Give me a bloody hour and I’ll be there!” Asala snapped furiously without so much as a glance over her shoulder. The doors weren’t small or light but they were made for human strength and Asala was a Qunari… and angry. The wooden obstacles easily flew open but didn’t make a satisfying crash against the doorposts or walls. She wasn’t quite that strong, sadly. As Asala headed towards the entrance gate to Haven, anyone standing even near her path took a step back. It was probably safer that way.

It didn’t take long to reach the by now small tent village set up just outside Haven but it wasn’t her goal. She needed to be alone, with not one, single, idiotic Southerner as far as the eye could see! Idiots who couldn’t see the problem before their very eyes. Idiots who thought that if something could be blamed or shoved on someone else, it was fine and not their fault or responsibility. Idiots who, for some reason, were always on the edge of blowing themselves up but never succeeded and thus sparing the world! Foolish, stubborn, stupid, childish, _unenlightened—!_

“Argh!” Asala screamed her anger to the surrounding landscape, flinging her arms away from her body. Energy raced through her limbs, pure and burningly sweet. Frustration that had been building and building, like a river that ebbed and flowed but the latter was always greater than the former, causing the riverbed to get dangerously fuller with each flood. There just wasn’t any release in sight and she had just. had. enough! Why could they not see?! _How_ could they not see?! Irresponsible use, _abuse_ really, of magic! Stupid, stupid, _stupid_! Asala dropped harshly to her knees and slammed her fists into the snow-covered ground, feeling ice crystals flare around her. Flexing her fingers like claws she threw her arms to the side, harsh anger burning in her system and making her vision swim with flames. Why hadn’t all of these worthless fools long since destroyed themselves with their actions and carelessness!? She shoved her hands out in front of her towards a lone tree standing in her line of sight. Alone, tall and proud and _why_ was it there?! Mocking her with its tip swaying impishly in the wind. Snow flared all around and then a loud crack resounded, the noise snapping even louder inside her head due to its unexpectedness. Why did it suddenly make a sound like…?

Asala stared as more cracking noises began to emit from the thick trunk and then the tree began to tilt and tilt and tilt… until it broke near the roots and fell heavily. It crashed into the ground, the snow unable to dampen the loud noise as it sprayed all around the pine. Asala stared. Then she blinked and slowly, almost unwillingly, glanced around the snow-covered field. Large groves crisscrossed the ground, baring dark ground underneath. In other places the snow hadn’t so much been moved as melted in an instant, leaving swatches of water cooling in the wind that now pulled at her hair. Had it been there the whole time?

Asala stared at the manhandled landscape as horror slowly dawned. This was her… All of this. She had lost her temper and tore into the mountainside with chaotic abandon without even realising it. Her mark was throbbing now, pulsing with energy spent in a rush and _more_ energy that rested at her fingertips, ready to be unleashed. Asala dug her nails harshly into her marked palm. She could feel them sinking into the mark… She very rapidly flipped her fist open and even shook her hand as though she’d burnt it. She hadn’t. It was just reflex. Some small part of her wondered why it wasn’t smoking though. It felt like she’d expended enough energy for that to be a valid conclusion. Finally, she slowly sank down and drew her knees up, dropping her forehead onto them. Breathe in, breathe out. She could get this under control again. She just had to move slowly, concentrate…

She wasn’t equipped for this job…

She’d vowed to do it in Redcliffe, in the _future_ Redcliffe, and she would stick to that promise, wouldn’t back out now. No one else seemed interested in their duty and responsibilities. Not the mages, templars, Chantry… Any of them! And due to her mark and how she survived the Breach, half the South thought she was the person to turn to. Maybe they didn’t turn to her for everything, they simply _couldn’t_ turn to her for everything, she refused to believe the world was that far gone, but they looked to her for enough as it was. She just… She was out of her depth. Yes, there was the war council. Yes, she had Solas to aid her with learning magic and to not fear the hole in her hand leading to the Land of the Dead. The main problem, however, was that she had survived all this time with her magic _because_ she hadn’t needed to use it like this, or taken on this kind of role. She was doing the best she could with what little resources and backing she had.

 _Stress_ , she noted absently as she raised her head and allowed herself to drop backwards, lying supine on the cold ground. Her skin felt hot, hotter than normal, so the cold didn’t matter. At least not right now. If it helped cool her mind, all the better. She just couldn’t lie there for too long or she might get sick, and she couldn’t get sick because she needed to go speak to the templars and she needed to close the Breach and she—

Asala slapped her cheeks swiftly but let her hands remain on her face, moving her fingers to cover her eyes and block out the stars and moon above.

…Not to talk about the Breach.

She inhaled deeply, sharply, and then exhaled.

The irony of being in the South had never been so great. She had never dared relax completely since her powers manifested fully, never dared do more to relieve stress than get a massage from another tamassran. And now, what did she need more than ever? Stress relief. In the absence of any better method, she’d stooped so low as to unconsciously lose her temper and beat up the landscape. At least it beat murdering someone, but hey, maybe that, depending on who she killed, would be doing the world a favour, she considered blankly.

The dragon they had seen on the Storm Coast flitted through her mind. Chaos and dragon’s blood, they said it so often, so casually, up north… Asala rubbed hard at her closed eyes with the heels of her hands. She was starting to feel the chill of the landscape now. She shouldn’t remain there for very long… Well, at least she felt a _little_ more relaxed now. After beating the mountainside to a pulp. She could probably cover up the worst of the damage with a bit of snow from the surrounding areas and pray it snowed some during the night. She didn’t dare try to use ice magic to cover up the traces of her rampage. There was nothing to do about the tree though… Maybe, if no one came out here tonight at least, they would think some strong wind did it or a druffalo tried to use it as a scratching post or something…

She heaved a sigh and got up slowly, brushing away the snow stuck to her person. As humans put it; this day had sucked. Or, if she counted it from the day she arrived in Redcliffe to meet with Alexius, this week. She lumbered back slowly, wondering if her free hour was up or not. She had no perception of when she left the chantry and no idea what the time was now, either. The sky was as dark then as it was now. No one had come looking for her yet though… She’d apparently managed to get quite far before she completely broke down and tore the landscape a new one. Nice to know she either still had some more luck left to spend or wasn’t completely gone. It took a bit of trekking but she got back.

She was trudging by the Chargers’ small area, currently a lot less occupied due to most of them being out on the escort mission, when Iron Bull came out of his tent. “Hey, boss, out for an evening walk?”

Asala slowed until she was opposite the tent, waiting for him to reach her. “Yes,” she answered, hoping it didn’t sound as evasive as she felt it did. “There’s been a lot going on lately.”

“I’m going for a drink. Why not join me? I’m a bit short on drinking buddies tonight.” She regarded him for a moment. Was that smart? She never really drank much, period, for, well… same reason as any other activity that could make her slip up or lose concentration. She did have one or two weak drinks every so often. Casting her eyes over Haven and the entrance gate looming not too far away, she inhaled the night air, slowly but deeply, through her nose. No one here smelled like another Qunari did and for all his training, he still had that tiny telltale lilt to his Common that said he either knew Qunlat really well, and spoke it often, or it was his native tongue. She had it, too, just stronger. Everyone in the Valo-Kas kith had it. There were many accents around in Haven due to people coming from different places but… none sounded like her, like _them_ , and none certainly smelled like them. It was difficult to pinpoint what exactly differed between the smell of Southerners and Qunari but it was marked, and nice, enough for her to miss it.

“All right. But only two glasses. There are still things I need to do tonight.”

“Nice!” he grinned appreciatively. She wasn’t sure if he ignored or chose not to comment on her condition. It didn’t take long to get to the tavern. Once there, Flissa moved quickly to serve them before retiring to behind the bar again.

“I would like to apologise for taking you along to Redcliffe,” she said after a second of silence, her staring into her cup while he was doing his best to drain his. Iron Bull lowered it now the look at her carefully.

“Why?”

Asala looked up and met his gaze. “You’re Qunari. W… I know that… You people don’t really feel comfortable around magic.” She’d almost said “we” but caught herself and then just hadn’t known how to work the sentence until the second attempt.

“Didn’t see too much of it,” he replied with a casual shrug, as though it didn’t matter as much to him as she seemed to think it did.

“No, I guess you didn’t.” Another version of him had. “It got a bit disorienting there for a while.” Present and future versions of people getting mixed up.

“And you’re sure that Tevinter guy sent you into the future?” Her gaze had fallen to her cup again. She took a swallow before meeting his gaze.

“Quite so, yes. Unfortunately. It wasn’t pretty.” No one and nothing had been particularly pretty. Iron Bull grunted and frowned into his cup before grabbing the flagon between them and refilling his cup. He was drinking something far stronger than her, she didn’t need to taste it to know; she had a nose. The noise he had made was amusing though and she couldn’t help the lopsided smile tugging her lips out of alignment. She managed to withhold her chuckle though, at least audibly and only due to the nearby bard. She had a good voice and, as far as Asala could tell, was a dab hand at the lute. “If you’re scared, don’t worry. I’ll protect you,” she commented amusedly and took another swallow. When she lowered her cup he was still giving her the evil eye and she couldn’t help but laugh softly under her breath.

“My blade pretty much protects me,” he said at last with a shrug, as though to say her words didn’t prick his pride.

Asala gave an amused snort. “If your blade could do everything I could, I would have stolen it long ago,” she idly confessed.

“And done what?”

“Chucked it at the Breach, for one. There are a lot of problems in need of solving though, so if it didn’t come back down, the Breach would have to be last on the list.” If a good blade was all it took to fix the Breach, she would have suggested Cassandra go long ago.

“And now?” Asala looked up from her cup at him, blinking in surprise.

“Now?” she repeated his query. “Now, we’ll solve things the old fashioned way. But I guess if some people need a beating I could always lend my unmarked hand to the cause,” she added with a shrug before emptying her cup. At her request, Flissa had only set a half full pitcher of the weak mead by her seat. She wasn’t going to try Iron Bull’s stuff, not anytime soon if ever, judging by the smell of it.

“Hey, old fashioned is a damned fine method,” the other Qunari argued and filled her cup. “Although I gotta say I don’t understand your taste in drinks. This hardly tastes anything,” he commented as he sniffed the almost empty pitcher before putting it back down and refiling his own cup with the deadlier brew. Asala snorted. _Maybe the olfactories in your nose have been burnt away long ago by all the strong alcohol?_ she mused amusedly but didn't say. She'd probably get the stinky eye again or maybe a challenge to try his brew and tell him if she still had her senses intact afterwards.

“I’ve got work to do.” It reminded her she couldn’t linger long.

“And you wish to go?” It sounded like a question regarding her desire to participate in the decision making but at the same time, Asala couldn’t shake the feeling it meant something more.

In the end she shrugged. “I’m needed, so I’ll go. No one else can close rifts and few seem to have their heads screwed on right these days.” She cut herself short by taking a few consecutive swallows before she said too much or simply used the right words, so to speak. She remembered how little it took for him to figure it out in the future. She would not repeat that mistake. Their exchange did make her think though; think about how it would have gone before Redcliffe. Cassandra had done a good job with the Inquisition… She still did, make no mistake, but things had just become so painfully obvious over the last few months. She took the remaining mouthfuls, draining the cup. The pitcher probably had one more swallow in it but she ignored it, pushing her cup away. Speaking of the dragons… “I should go before anyone comes looking for me.” She gave the man opposite her a smile. “Thanks for the drink and the company though.”

Iron Bull nodded. “Anytime, boss. You should actually do it more often. It’ll help you relax.”

She grinned at him. “Thank you, but I’ve got it covered. I’ll be fine.” It was only a lie if she couldn’t keep her cool, right? There was a spot between her shoulder blades that itched as she left, as though he was staring after her. She didn’t turn around to confirm it though, nor did she allow the muscles to twitch or reached back a hand to scratch it. Everything was fine. Believe it and it’ll be true.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This right here is why Qunari follow the Qun. Or have damned active sex lives. Take a pick.  
> Ever ended up in a situation or with a task you feel you're unable to complete to the degree or with the result someone is expecting of you? It's not nice. Some people unwind with a glas of wine in peace at home, others with a pub crawl. Asala... just never unwinds due to her fear of letting go, hence the fireworks. Oh well, now she knows. You live and you learn, right? RIGHT, ASALA? *stare*
> 
> Hypocrisy, I dislike thee. (Hence I won't write it in a scene where a person has just had an eye-opener hours before. Not unless something extreme happened to justify it. Like anyone, Asala can be hypocritical. Just not about the magister. Another time maybe, for I am not immune to such feelings either. Hot damn, I'm human! Release me from this torment! May I reroll my race?)
> 
> Anyone ever considered it amusing how, while fleeing Haven for their lives, SOMEONE took the time to pick up any of your prisoners and have them tag along? Instead of, you know, being buried? Maybe make sure that as many INNOCENT lives and cooperating ALLIES as possible were saved? No? Just me? Okay. (That's why I had Alexius stay in Redcliffe.)  
> I also put Dorian's joining en route to Haven because, uh... why WOULDN'T he travel with you there? And you just didn't ask why he was tagging along? Or did he stalk you all the way there? If your PC was male and you were set to do a Dorian romance, it'd be creepily cute but otherwise... not so much.
> 
> When I play a mage, I usually (read; always?) make the mages my allies. Because I believe in redemption stories, but with Asala, there's not much redemption to be had for the mages. They went and fucked up hard in Asala's opinon. Where the templars did the same however, she would have given them a chance... because she's predisposed towards order and control. (Fully hypocritical? No. Partly? Hell, yes.) She has her opinions and, true to life, if faced with an extreme situation, our opinions are going to come boldly to the fore. DAI isn't a story of "everyone will be happy and there'll be sunshine and daisies and blargh!". As we all know, it's a story of choices and consequences. Like if you tell that elven woman in Crestwood to join the Wardens who saved her, she'll get her throat slit at Adamant. Yay...


	21. Chapter 21

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Something is up at Therinfal Redoubt and the choice is made to not ignore the Breach any longer. Preparations to put a cork in the big hole begins.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To everyone; thank you for reading! I know this story is reaching monstrous proportions (chapter-wise) for a fanfic and we're not even halfway into the game. We'll get there though. I try to cut out the stuff that seems less relevant or too"side quest-esque" but keep things that may be relevant for character development, revelations, etc. Independent of all this, I'm glad people are enjoying this.  
> Also, see you again around the 25th. I've got some business out of town.

“What do they mean it’s 'too silent'? It’s a castle filled with templars. It can’t be completely dead!” Asala demanded as she waved the small letter at the war table. It’d arrived moments ago, only minutes after her return. The bloody bird was still seated on Leliana’s shoulder for crying out loud! It also appeared wholly unimpressed by the tall, horned woman’s irritated expression and gestures.

“They said it had been that way for two days now.”

“I can read,” Asala slowly bit out despite how the spymaster’s comment had probably not been directed at her. Something was going very wrong by the minute and they were losing precious seconds to fix it. Two days ago they’d been halfway to Haven with the mages. The fact that it was after they left Redcliffe worried her. “They can’t think we’re not about to meet with them, can they?” She skipped right past the question of whether or not the Templar Order had heard about the events at Redcliffe Castle, it wasn’t as big an issue as the second question after all.

“It’s possible,” Josephine confirmed.

“They _know_ we were going there to deal with something before coming to see them. It’s not like our presence there was a surprise,” Asala argued as she dropped her eyes to stare at the map, as though some answer would appear on it. It was that or start pulling on her hair. “Can we send another letter? Immediately?” She lifted her gaze to Leliana. Despite their earlier argument nearly two hours ago now, the woman appeared calm. Of course, if they couldn’t look past personal preferences for the good of the Inquisition, what use was the war council?

“Of course,” the redhead replied but then frowned at her. “But it probably wouldn’t be recommended to start travelling before we have a reply from them.”

“Why not?” Asala demanded anxiously, feeling the need to bite her nails or something else rising. She wanted, _needed_ , to do something, to move. The stress relief, however small, she'd gotten from mauling the countryside was fast evaporating and would soon be all gone if this kept up.

“It would be difficult for a messenger bird to catch you on the road,” Josephine supplied and Asala knew they were correct but… damn it! She rubbed at her face with one hand.

“So, what, we send off another message and then wait for a reply? How long can we sit and wait?”

“The bird will take a day to get there and a day to return. We’ll give it three days unless bad weather rolls in,” Leliana supplied with a faint frown and careful look at Asala. She realised she was probably acting a bit too stressed and took a deep breath before nodding. Three days, that meant the templars had one day to consider their reply to them.

“And the nobles?” She cast a glance at Josephine who nodded at her with a smile. Of course she wouldn’t forget them. They were part of the reason they could get the templars to listen. The order had been forewarned of their guests.

“They were set to gather at the site of New Lothering before travelling to Therinfal as one. As they should still be there, we could send a messenger bird and it should arrive there before morning, ensuring we catch them before they leave,” the ambassador replied as she dipped her pen into the inkwell, preparing to make a note.

“Do so,” Asala confirmed with a nod. As no other matter was pressing, they quickly wrapped up the meeting so that Leliana and Josephine could compose and send off their notes. Cassandra clapped a hand onto Asala’s shoulder outside the war room once everyone had moved off to their duties.

“Don’t worry,” Cassandra told her with a reassuring smile as the Qunari looked down at the woman. “We’ll go and meet the templars.”

“I hope so.” Asala heaved a heavy sigh. In the meantime, if she now had three days to do almost anything, there was something she needed to speak to Solas about; that knight-enchanter thing Dorian mentioned.

****************

“I don’t know much about them but if I’m not mistaken, the techniques descend from those of ancient elven mages called arcane warriors,” Solas told her with an apologetic smile. Asala released a defeated sigh. It was morning and the sun was peeking through a white cover of clouds above, leaving little rays to spear the windows.

“Do you have any suggestions for me? Any idea where I could find any information on it?” she asked hopelessly.

“I can only tell you what little I know about them but it probably won’t help you much. What I find fascinating, however, is how you slipped into it without any prior instruction,” the man confessed. Dorian had said the same. She gave the elf a weak smile. They’d needed more front line fighters and she’d lost her staff, she’d told him that before but he still seemed intrigued by the whole thing, more so than the future and not knowing what had happened to him in it. That was fine by her. It wasn’t one of her favourite topics. “It is a rather recently resurfaced art still,” Solas said after a moment of deliberation, “but you could try and seek information on it in the library. It _is_ a chantry library but maybe something will come out of it. I also believe the ambassador will do her utmost to aid me in acquiring any papers on the matter. I can’t guarantee anything, but I could try seeking out information in the Fade as well.” Asala gave him a nod and a grateful smile.

“Anything you can find out, no matter what it is, would be helpful,” she replied before a nervous frown settled on her brow. “You don’t think it would prove harmful to my magic, do you?”

Solas chuckled but shook his head. “Hardly. The formal name for it among the ancient elves was the Dirth’ena Enasalin, knowledge that led to victory,” he supplied. “Although mages who eschewed physical confrontation called it Ghilan’him Banal’vhen, the path that leads astray. As you experienced yourself, it hardly led you astray. It was what you needed in that exact moment. Perhaps that is how it originally came about,” he finished with a shrug. “Do you _feel_ like it has led you astray?”

They hadn’t needed to fight since she slipped into it and a hunt for a new staff hadn’t been their priority when they returned yesterday. Now, however, they had three days to find or make one but she had to agree with him, she didn’t feel like it had led her astray. As Cassandra had said about Asala at the very beginning; she was what they needed when they needed it. Maybe this had been the same but she could choose whether to continue with it or not. She shook her head as she answered Solas. “No, I don’t.”

“Then it is up to you where to take it from here. If you wish to pursue it, I’ll try my best to aid you.”

She’d left him after that to try and see if there was anything at all in the library. She doubted it but it was better to cover every avenue completely before dismissing it. And she had time to kill and little to do personally. Cullen worked with his troops and Cassandra switched between him and seeing to everything else in Haven. Leliana worked with her agents and reports while Josephine had the correspondence, treaties and more to deal with. Asala… had always been on the move, dealing with everything _not_ in Haven, she realised.

“Ah, there you are, darling.”

Asala halted and turned to see the First Enchanter coming towards her. “Court Enchanter, what may I do for you?”

Vivienne smiled at her. “I heard the report from Redcliffe. You did a good job in a difficult situation.”

Asala had wondered about that during their trip back to Haven. She’d gone to Redcliffe to put things straight and returned with the rebel mages. To her, that hadn’t constituted as a good result. “You’re pleased we have the rebel mages, Lady Vivienne?” she asked with a frown.

“The rebels made their beds, my dear, but didn’t wish to sleep in them. You put them to bed and made them stay,” the woman explained. Asala could see how that analogy worked but it was also rather amusing to her as someone who’d once put a lot of children to bed, willing or not. “But what I really wished was to inquire about a detail. I heard you began using the skills of the knight-enchanter, my dear. Is that correct?”

Asala refrained from heaving a sigh. A lot of people were finding that interesting and having questions but she could barely answer her own on the matter. “Yes, that is correct, although I didn’t know I was doing it at the time.”

“You have never been instructed in the art then?” Vivienne regarded her thoughtfully.

Asala shook her head. “I’d never even heard of it before Master Pavus mentioned it.”

“Something that only makes the move all the more formidable considering the discipline necessary. Tell me, do you intend to pursue the art?”

If there was one thing Asala was leery about professing to have, it was discipline. Especially after what happened last night. Then again, if it could strengthen her self-control, she was even more eager to learn it, but the main problem still remained. “I don’t know anything about it, only general and vague details,” she complained with a helpless shrug. Wishing to learn and master something was great but if you didn’t have a tutor or even knew where to start, wishing did little. “I was thinking of trying but unless there’s anything on it in the library, it’s not going to matter.”

Vivienne gave her an amused expression, brows dipping as one corner of her mouth turned upwards. “My dear girl, _I_ am a knight-enchanter.” The woman sounded as though she was holding back her laughter by nothing more than sheer will. Asala stared. It couldn’t be that easy, could it? “We serve in the highest echelons of the Chantry and Circle.” She sounded as though that was an obvious matter. Maybe it should have been, Asala agreed. Being the official enchanter to the imperial court of Orlais, Vivienne would have to be one of the best or strongest.

…At least Asala hoped so because what use was there to a mage that close to the rulers otherwise?

She gave Vivienne an embarrassed smile. “Forgive me, I hadn’t considered that to be the case. There’s been a lot going on lately.”

“There’s nothing to apologise for, darling. However, if you need someone to aid you on the matter, I shall make time for you until we can acquire a proper tutor. It might take two or three weeks, but I know just the person.” Asala allowed her shoulders to drop in relief. Nothing had been this simple since… possibly since the Conclave exploded.

“I would be most grateful for your aid on the matter, Lady Vivienne,” Asala replied with a smile and the First Enchanter nodded.

“We shall begin shortly. There was, however, another matter I wished to ask you about. Once all this is over, what will you do with the mages? As you have now seen up close what happens when there are no Circles, would you vouch for their reinstatement?”

That was a difficult question. Asala rubbed at the back of her head, frowning. On one hand, it seemed a matter for the Chantry and the mages to sort out between them. On the other hand though, as the Inquisition had been the one stuck to deal with the fallout, she could see why the question would be posed to them. “Truthfully, I don’t know,” she said in the end. “Obviously something failed the first time around and miserably at that. However, judging from recent events, it’s clear that true freedom failed, too.” To be fair, recent events were of the extreme kind but that still didn’t detract from their validity. Extreme cases were rare but that didn’t mean they didn’t occur and their consequences weren’t harsh or dangerous. People always remembered the bad things longer than the good, it was just how it went. On the other hand, Asala had lived with her powers _and_ done her job under the Qun for years. It wasn’t an accident where someone got hurt that caused her to run but the risk of simply having another realise that she had powers.

“It must be said, however, that I managed to live with my magic like any other person for the longest time before I decided to join the Valo-Kas company.”

“I had been meaning to ask how you got your training, my dear,” Vivienne mentioned. She’d been silently studying Asala the whole time without giving any indication to her thoughts. “You are remarkably skilled but have obviously never been taught in a Circle.”

Asala shot the woman a lopsided smile, eyes apologetic. “There isn’t much I can tell you. My parents taught me control and respect for the danger. As they grew up under the Qun, they passed on what they had learnt of discipline.” She had met another Vashoth once, rare as they were. The rarity was mostly because the people who became Tal-Vashoth were mostly those who fought and, in the end, couldn’t stand it. Those roles were always filled by men, except for those of the Ben-Hassrath. Shokrakar and Katoh were of those rare cases where the person came from the general populace but just didn’t fit in or refused to bend to the working system. “For this reason, I may not be the best person to tell you what the mages of Thedas need. Not everyone has or can teach the kind of discipline required to live as I did. Even if you had someone who could teach it, they might not be there to catch the child who would need tutoring before it’s too late. This would imply that gathering them all in one place would be for the best.” Asala gave a shrug as they came full circle. “However, once again, that might not hold because some won’t want to be there and if forced, dissent brews and will in the end be brought to a point. I have no good answer for you, Court Enchanter,” she confessed sadly.

Vivienne shook her head. “You have given it more thought than most of the malcontents and that matters. I would suggest giving it further consideration though, as the question shall surely be posed on an official level sooner or later. Use the time you have to formulate an opinion you are ready to defend.” Then she smiled warmly. “But for now, my dear, let me explain what I can of the art you have chosen to learn. It wouldn’t do to have people think you are clueless of your own craft.” Vivienne would never know and Asala would never tell just how correct and appreciated those words were. She could say she just preferred to master what she put her mind to, of course, but it wouldn’t be an adequate explanation.

It was two days later that a reply came from Therinfal Redoubt. It was brief and to summarise it, in a very colloquial or almost rude manner, it simply read “fuck off”. It was far more brief and rude than their interactions with the order in Val Royeaux. The letter also had a certain finality to it.

“Is this because the Herald went to Redcliffe?” Cassandra demanded, angry both at the dismissive, nearly insulting wording of the letter and the reply itself.

“It’s difficult to say,” Leliana replied as she studied the letter she was holding once more.

Whatever the reason was, nothing had gone according to plan lately. Or so it felt anyway. Asala stared at the maps on the table in front of her. They could put time aside and go there despite the message, they could demand to negotiate because the nobles were already halfway there and the templars _knew_ they were coming, they could do a lot of things… “Our messenger is one of your people, isn’t he, Spymaster?” Asala inquired without taking her eyes off the maps.

“Yes.”

“How good is he?”

“Chandler is one of my better agents. What is it you want specifically?” When Asala finally looked up, Leliana was studying her with somewhat narrowed eyes, trying to read what hadn’t yet been said.

“Can he find a way into the castle without being seen?” Asala asked without further preamble. “We’ve wasted enough time on waiting. The Breach _can_ continue waiting, it’s not going anywhere after all, but it’s not going to stop creating rifts or dropping demons on us. I still want to deal with the templars, that hasn’t changed. However, as much as I don’t want to use the mages for sealing the Breach, I acknowledge that we can’t just sit here and wait. We’re not going to do what the Chantry does when we obviously can act.” She didn’t care if any of them took insult to her words about the institution. They all knew she was correct. They Chantry was great at actively and inactively stalling. She may not like it, but she would be damned if she wasn’t about to take her duty more seriously than that.

After a few seconds of silence, Leliana nodded. “I can give Chandler the instructions.”

“And I’ll begin preparations to march on the summit,” Cullen followed almost immediately. Asala nodded at both of them before turning to Josephine.

“Ambassador, I’m unsure how to deal with the nobles with this new course of action.”

“This will prove somewhat problematic but I believe it can still be salvaged,” the Antivan answered with a smile, obviously pleased that it had come up without her mentioning it. “Any noble who travelled from Orlais will be most displeased over these turn of events if their trip proves to have been simply a journey there and back with nothing to show for it. However, I could possibly use this latest correspondence to put us in a more favourable light. We did try to reach out and deal with the Templar Order as an equal despite by now having the backing necessary to deal with the Breach. Some of the nobles may retire while others might wish to travel to stay in Denerim while this matter is resolved, but I shall try and keep as many of them as possible in the country.”

“Hopefully that’ll be enough,” Asala agreed with a smile. “Let’s make this work.” They had to. She sincerely didn’t want to have to go chase down the templars in a similar fashion as she’d been forced to deal with the mages.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> One thing that bothers me about the comments your companions and war council makes about you becoming a knight-enchanter is that it seems to be implied the art wasn't rediscovered ten years ago, which seems to be just what is implied in Origins. Leliana said they've served the Chantry for ages or something like that and Vivienne sounds like she means something similar, too. You discover it in ruin in the Brecilian Forest during Origins and maybe it was decided to be like this for story purposes but they could just as well have let you encounter a mage while trapped in the Fade during the mages' main quest. Whatever is the case, I'm going to go with that it was rediscovered and quickly set in use a decade ago. Not that the how is likely to come up in this story so you can probably ignore this background if you have another headcanon. If you have any official sources on the subject, do correct me. I'm a knowledge hoarded and would love to know.


	22. Chapter 22

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Breach is once again assaulted but this time with the backing of the rebel mages. And then something very unexpected happens.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok, I lied! (Apparently.) THIS is the last chapter before the 25th. Have fun with that.

The journey up to the ruined temple felt both longer and shorter than last time. Longer because the whole thing was unnerving and they had no idea how it would turn out and shorter as Asala wanted to get it done and over with. Once there, it looked exactly the same as last time except for a lot of the corpses had been removed for burial. With no idea who was who however, they had all been interred in the catacombs below Haven’s chantry.

The mark began coming alive as they entered the remains of the temple’s foundation and was crackling merrily, sending tiny tingles running up Asala’s arm, once they entered the central chamber. It still bore scorch marks from the pride demon’s electrical magic and the rift they had opened there hung heavy in the air like a ripe fruit on a branch. Solas had assured her, it would not be necessary to open the rift again to get to the Breach, not when she had all this extra power backing her. She should use the rift as a sort of wave though and make the power of the mark surf upon it to reach the Breach high above. It sounded weirder than anything else he’d told her until this point but he assured her she would understand what he meant as soon as she started.

Once the three dozen mages were in position, Asala, Cassandra and Solas drew closer. They were the very best among the rebels. Solas had picked them himself based on what would be needed for this to succeed. Asala hoped it would be enough. Asala cast a glance at the seeker who gave her a curt nod and tight smile before turning back to face the rows of magic users.

“Mages!” Her authoritative voice drew everyone’s attention.

“Focus past the Herald! Let her will draw from you,” Solas instructed. There wasn’t an answer but it wasn’t necessary. Asala could feel the air thicken with power as the mages drew upon their innate source and the surrounding area. It also made her mark hum louder. Asala began to move but the closer she got to the rift, now sparking with activity despite being closed, the harder it was to move. It was like pushing through molasses. The rift acted as though it was trying to split open but her mark wasn’t burning with the same warning she always got when a rift was about to rip open. It had to be all the magic in the air around them and her proximity to it. As she got within two metres of the rift, the misty tendrils of green light began to curl around and away from her, seemingly unable to decide if they wanted to be closer or further away. Well, the feeling was mutual.

Forcing her feet forward despite an invisible current of magic trying to keep her back, Asala forced her hand up. It was difficult to move, it felt like sticky spider web clung to her arm, trying to hold it close to the ground. Tightening her muscles, she jerked her arm free, pushing it up to get the mark as close to the rift as possible. At the same moment, energising shouts resounded from behind and what could only be described as a wall of energy came rushing at her back! The mages had released their energy.

It pushed against her, around her, almost _through_ her, and for a second she feared it would overwhelm her and push her to the ground, just like a too strong wave at the beach. Before it did, whether it could physically move her or not, Asala opened her mark fully and pulled upon the power. It almost surged towards her mark. It also made movement easier despite the energy from the rift still running amok all around her. It made her feel energised and lighter than usual.

_Wow_ , she thought airily before snapping her hand shut into a fist and mentally pulling on the power rushing towards her _harshly_. For a heartbeat it stuttered, the mages unnerved by the sudden and unfamiliar outside pull on their power, but then they let it go. More power rushed at her from behind to fill her hand, her body, her mind. This was… an incredible feeling. Incredible and possibly dangerously addictive. She’d never felt so free, so light. Not willing to linger on it, Asala pushed the mark’s power at the rift before setting her mental claws in it and _heaving_. The rift flared to brilliant life, becoming a pillar of blinding light that shot heavenwards to impact with the Breach in a fiery explosion. Power burned in her hand, her arm, but it wasn’t a painful feeling. It went beyond pain and straight into a lightening of the body in a sense. It was strangely pleasant even.

And then the light shot back towards the ground again, striking before anyone had the chance to react. A shockwave of magical energy sped out in all directions, throwing everything in its path to the ground lest it was already attached to the bedrock. Asala only knew what had happened because of her back hitting the ground hard. The light had blinded her, but the dark spots in the brightness promised it’d only be momentarily. All around her she could hear groans of pain and complaints about the hard ground, telling her she wasn’t the only one to be taken down. The Breach hadn’t wanted to go down alone. She just hoped they had managed to seal it.

The light evaporated slowly but surely, leaving a stark landscape in its wake that very slowly regained its muted colours. Asala rolled over, using her side to heave herself up into a kneeling crouch to not encourage the faint, spinning sensation in her head. She could hear movement behind her. Once the ground wasn’t moving quite so much, she raised her head and turned it to the side where someone was approaching. She shouldn’t have been surprised to see Cassandra there. She gave the other woman a shaky nod. A strict smile was her reply but the seeker did move closer to ensure she got to her feet. They raised their heads as one to behold the sky.

The heavens reflected the darkly grey of clouds, heavy with snow and edged in a faintly green hue, interspersed in places with clear pockets showing the darkening hue of twilight setting in. There were traces of Fade energy there still, but…

“You did it,” Cassandra whispered under her breath before, as if the sight woke her from a dream, turned towards Asala and captured her hand in a firm grip. All around the temple, people began cheering. The Breach was sealed. Asala gave Cassandra a tired smile even though she felt strangely invigorated by it all.

“We did, indeed.”

****************

The trip down the mountain was much faster than up and probably not only because it was downhill. Once back in Haven, it didn’t take long for the celebrations to start. No one had missed the bright light in the sky or how the heavens now looked as dark as it had before the Conclave. Small bonfires, more than they normally had, popped up all over Haven and the encampment outside while music, laughter and cheers could be heard from all corners of the place. People were dancing, singing and drinking. On one hand, it was a bit odd. Asala had assumed a peace would settle over the place once the Breach was sealed and the pall it had thrown over Haven was lifted. This wasn’t exactly calm but the anxiety and dread had certainly been thrown out the proverbial window. It was almost hard to let go though. Cassandra’s words from just before they headed up to the temple kept lurking at the back of her head; the people connected to the Inquisition would need a new focus once the Breach was sealed. They had a moment’s respite for sure, but Asala had a hard time letting go and winding down. She didn’t think it was due to the remaining hum of power in her hand either. It buzzed and, if she focused on it, vibrated ever so softly on a mental level with leftover power from the rebel mages. She wondered if, magically speaking, she wouldn’t have been more at peace if it had been the templars with them on that mountain top instead.

The sound of feet crunching the snow behind her informed her someone was approaching. She didn’t turn from where she stood, watching the people celebrate but her guest spoke soon enough on their own. “Solas confirms the heavens are scarred but calm,” Cassandra said as she came up beside her, regarding Asala. “The Breach is sealed.” She gave the other woman a nod. She wasn’t surprised it was Cassandra who came to report on the matter. The woman took as little rest as Asala did it would seem. “We’ll know in the days to come if there are any more rifts beyond those we’ve already had reports about and many questions still remain, but this was a victory.” Cassandra gave her a smile that, despite its careful nature, spoke of the woman’s certainty that the worst was over. “Soon, word of what has happened here, and your role in it, will spread.”

Asala felt a corner of her mouth pull upwards. “Even so, it is as you said; many questions remain unanswered.” She returned her gaze to the people on the tiers below. “We could use an evening of peace but we can’t rest easy yet.”

“I agree.” Out of the corner of her eye, Asala could see Cassandra nod. “One success doesn’t guarantee peace. The immediate danger is gone and, for some, so is the necessity of this alliance.”

“What alliance? The mages were conscripted. Once we know for certain that those who opened the Breach are gone or captured, they’ll be with us as they’ve been declared our responsibility to the world.” She wasn’t about to be accused of letting them run wild simply because the biggest, and most visible, danger had been taken down. “Unless you meant the noble connections Lady Josephine has been cultivating,” she added as she turned towards the other woman once more.

“Those are another matter, but no, I did mean the mages,” Cassandra confirmed business face firmly in place, but then she smiled. “Although for tonight, I believe we do have a bit of a breather. You should enjoy it while it lasts. Relax.”

Asala snorted, amused but refrained from chuckling. Maybe she would be able to relax a bit tonight, yes, but somehow she doubted it. She opened her mouth to reply when the tolling of the village bell began to ring loudly. The women’s heads turned as one towards the entrance and the land beyond. Lights were moving in the distance as well as faint figures against the pale landscape. They were many. What in the world…?

Cullen came running up the stairs from the lowest tier of Haven, yelling orders. “Forces approaching! To arms!” he shouted as he gestured to people left and right, sending them into positions and duties they’d obviously trained for. Chaos quickly began to descend upon the celebrating labourers and servants of the Inquisition but lieutenants swiftly moved to action, herding the people to the correct places. Asala’s expression soured as she beheld the growing numbers in the distance. That did not look like a friendly host approaching.

“We must get to the gates!” Cassandra sounded about as happy as she, not to mention as confused, but she was not slow to action. She was drawing her blade even as she moved towards the stairs. Asala followed, catching a servant in the passing to have them deliver a message to the chantry and anyone in there about the place to gather.

It didn’t take long before everyone was there. Even Josephine had come down despite not being a combatant. “Cullen?” Cassandra demanded as they arrived. A name had never before been able to ask so many questions at once, in Asala’s opinion.

“One watchguard reporting; it’s a massive force. The bulk is still over the mountain.” Asala gritted her teeth as she shook her head, walking around them and towards the overlook platform beside the entrance. She could still hear the others.

“Under what banner?”

“None.”

“None?” Josephine sounded shocked and confused. Asala had to agree as she began climbing; it didn’t make sense. Then a loud banging on the closed doors began, making everyone freeze.

“We can’t come in unless you open!” That did not sound like any hostile force Asala had ever encountered. She threw her head over her shoulder and met Cullen’s equally surprised stare. She gave a curt nod before he could, jumping down from her position of halfway up the ladder. Two Inquisition soldiers had the door moving by the time they arrived at it, allowing Asala and Cullen to continue out without stopping. Then they stopped dead anyway. There were bodies littering their very doorstep so to speak… and the Bull’s Chargers as well as a dozen and a half templars drawing near from the left. They looked pretty rough but that wasn’t as surprising as the… boy? young man? who stood in the middle of all those corpses.

“What is the meaning of this?” Asala demanded as her head shot from the boy, he appeared barely out of his teens, to the Charger’s lieutenant, Krem, who’d lead the escort for the Inquisition’s messenger to Therinfal Redoubt.

“I’m Cole. I came to warn you, to help. People are coming to hurt you!” The boy halted and then looked a bit uncertain. “You probably already know.” The situation was truly one where he should have sounded embarrassed over the obvious statement but he wasn’t. It was just like… he was stating a fact.

“He’s been like that the whole way, Your Worship.” Asala quickly switched to Krem as the man spoke. “He helped us get out of Therinfal after we got captured. We wouldn’t have gotten out these people if he hadn’t been there to help us.” Asala’s eyes flicked from Krem to the weird boy, Cole, and back again before she recognised one of the templars. He looked particularly worn, his armour carrying evidence of a recent and hard fight.

“I saw you in Val Royeaux.”

The man didn’t nod but gave a swift bow in affirmation. “Yes, I’m Ser Barris, Your… Worship.” He said it as though he wasn’t used to calling her that, as though it was a very recent development. Asala shook her head. That didn’t matter right now.

“How are you? Can you fight?” she demanded, fixing both men with her eyes. Krem answered first and spoke form both of them.

“The Chargers can fight but we’re a bit worse for wear from the travel. These men had been entrenched in the large hall of the castle for two days when we got to them. I wouldn’t say they’re fit to go into an offensive position,” the lieutenant summarised. Ser Barris looked embarrassed about the fact but didn’t contradict it.

“Who’s attacking, do you know?” They must have passed the force on their way here.

“The templars,” the boy lifted his head further this time and Asala was finally able to see his eyes under the large, strange hat. “They come to kill you.”

“What?”

“Templars?!” Cullen came forward and he didn’t sound happy. Cole took a step back but no more. He didn’t seem particularly worried about the irate man with a naked sword in hand. “Is this the Order’s response to our dealing with the mages? Attacking blindly?” he demanded, his eyes travelling from the boy in front of them to Krem to finally settle upon Ser Barris. The man didn’t look happy but his expression was tempered by an undertone of dread. This wasn’t going to be as straightforward as all that…

“They aren’t human anymore.” He sounded bitter and hollow at the same time. Before either Cullen or Asala could demand and explanation, Cole gave it. In a sense.

“The red templars went to the Elder One.” Asala froze, the name ringing with familiarity. Alexius’s fanatic ramblings, the bleak future seen in Redcliffe. “You know him? He knows you.” Asala allowed her focus to be dragged back to the boy again. “You took his mages.”

_Of course I did_ , she thought bleakly. Alexius had served the Elder One and they’d needed the mages for… something or the other.

“There!” They all turned their eyes to where Cole was pointing. On the outcropping of a small hill an impossibly tall figure was standing with another man of much more normal proportions at his side.

“I know that man…” Asala almost missed Cullen’s silent words. “But this Elder One…” The commander shook his head.

“He’s very angry that you took his mages,” Cole supplied unhelpfully. They couldn’t see any particular expression from here but judging from the force marching upon them, Asala could have guessed. This was also no time to stand and stare. Asala shook her head.

“You!” She turned sharply towards the templars and Chargers. “Templars to the chantry. Those of you able, defend the building at the stairs. Chargers, same for you but on the lower tiers of Haven or out in the forecourt!” Then she whipped around to face Cullen. “Commander, you know our equipment and fortifications. Give me a plan!”

“Haven is no fortress,” Cullen commented regretfully as he gave the enemy force one last look before turning towards her. “If we are to withstand this monster, we must control the battle. Get out there and hit that force,” he told her as he pointed out the large trebuchet taking up a large part of the grounds just beyond the encampment. “Do not hold back.” Asala gave a sharp nod and turned back to the entrance. She could hear Cullen instructing the forces as she sought out the people that usually followed her.

“Mages! You have sanction to engage the enemy without reserves! That is Samson, a former templar! He will not make it easy!”

Asala regarded everyone who’d gathered by the gate. “I’d like to apologise for the evening being ruined. This was not exactly what we’d expected, but you can choose whether to spread out with the forces or come with me,” she told them with a wry smile and one brow raised. She wasn’t sure whether to try and laugh at this whole mess or just go for annoyed.

“I’ll come with you,” Cassandra commented and Asala gave her a nod. Haven was under siege, only Josephine would be kept off the field, so there was no point in trying to minimise possible losses within the Inquisition’s leadership base by telling Cassandra to hang back as had been the case for Redcliffe.

“Do you even need to ask?” Sera’s tone said it was a daft question and she was going whether she was allowed or not. Asala chuckled.

_I guess there is no holding anyone back_ , she mused ruefully. She just hoped this wouldn’t prove too fatal a confrontation for the girl. Everyone appeared to feel the same.

“Inquisition! With the Herald! For your lives! For all of us!”

_Indeed, Commander,_ Asala agreed as a deafening roar rose from the troops. “Well then, let’s go.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So here's a twist I believe no one expected. It's my bad, really. I apologise. See, I like Ser Barris. Like, I like him a lot. I love the war table operations that end in the Inquisitor promoting him. He's one of the main reasons I go with the templars. (Yeah, I'm shallow like that. Sorry. Haha.) This way I get a handful of more templars because there's no way to tell how many of the ones who joined with Cullen didn't actually die during the attack on Haven. So, yeah, here's my compromise for not being able to take the templar route. *pets Ser Barris*
> 
> I knew I couldn't take the templars rather early on. If Asala had ignored the mages, I'm not sure the same amount of character development would have happened for her and she would most certainly have dismissed Cole at first chance. She would've seen him as an outside influence that could get into her head, just like Envy, and been deathly afraid of him. Rather than step up to become more of a leader, she would have considered herself a risk in such a position since the demon (irrelevant of that it was a VERY strong one) HAD been able to get into her mind. But... I still couldn't leave the templars completely alone! I'm so weak. Haha.


	23. Chapter 23

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The assault on Haven has begun.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What a mess of typos the last chapter had. I haven't had a chance to go through it all, just the very end.  
> I got done a day early.

They all moved out as one with a dozen men and women in Inquisition colours following them, four of which would handle the trebuchet. The fact that they had to engage the wooden monstrosity while under direct attack worried Asala. They were out in the open. If the enemy had enough archers, they might be out of siege engineers sooner rather than later. She threw out the order to favour any ranged hostiles as soon as they were spotted over all melee combatants. They would have to take the risk. They needed the trebuchet.

The young man, Cole, hadn’t been mincing his words when he said the templars were coming to kill them, they’d certainly brought the numbers for it if the dark shapes moving against the snow was any indication. How many were there out there? Was this what had happened to all the templars who didn’t leave their Circles behind to join the Order in exile? _There’s so many…_ Asala thought bleakly.

They didn’t get much time to overview the forces marching on them as armoured enemies quickly charged up the hill. This was truly unlike anything they’d encountered before. This was not a fight, not a sneakily performed takeover of a hostile base; this was war. Asala had never thought to see violence quite on this level. This, more than anything prior to now, was unsettling. And then it got more so.

A hulking brute, part of him crystallised by red lyrium in a way the Grand Enchanter hadn’t been in the future, came bounding up the slope towards them and he wasn’t alone.

“What in Andraste’s name is that!?” Cassandra’s comment probably spoke for more than herself. Asala knew she agreed with the woman.

“As long as it can be killed!” Iron Bull countered and charged at the closest brute. It was nearly as tall as he but his huge axe did go straight through the arm. Crystalline splinters as well as bone cracked under the cleaving force. On one hand, Asala was surprised the impromptu amputation gushed blood but on the other hand she was glad it did. It would probably have been far more horrific if it hadn’t.

“Almost ready, Your Worship!” Asala cast a swift glance over at the engineers loading the trebuchet and gave them a curt nod. “Just keep them off us a little longer!” They could do that.

“Asala!”

She whipped around to see the crystal brute charging towards her, torso bent as though intent to skewer her on the red spikes protruding from his massive shoulders. There wasn’t any time to get completely clear of his path. She threw up a shield and hoped it’d take the worst of the burnt but the brute convulsed and then came to a shuddering halt less than a metre from her. The red lyrium on his body had begun to glow from within with a diffused light that brightened by the second. Something screamed a warning in her head. Asala began to hastily scramble backwards even though she knew that whatever was coming, she wouldn’t be clear of the blast zone. A muted sound, almost like a strong breeze rushing through bushes, swooshed somewhere close by. Something in her peripheral vision made the air shimmer like heat over ground in the desert and caused her mark to send a shiver up her arm and then the sensation was enveloping her whole body as it was harshly jerked backwards. She could see the crystal brute almost as if he’d been slowed or she sped up, much like the temporal disruption pockets they’d encountered around Redcliffe. The red lyrium exploded in fire that spread outwards in a ring around the brute but it moved slow, so slow… and then everything sped up again. She could feel the heat licking at her limbs but she was out of reach. The tingling from her mark had also subsided and the odd boy who’d arrived with the Chargers stood beside her.

Asala threw her head around to stare at Cole, blinking wide eyes. It was odd but he exuded neither body heat nor was he cold to the touch. It was as though he was exactly the same temperature as she… or didn’t have one at all. A movement in front of them forced her to redirect her attention. The crystal brute was still alive! Apparently exploding didn’t kill him. A damned pity. She gave the boy a quick nod before stabilising the fluctuating energies that made up her sword again. After the introductory talk about the knight enchanter’s skills with Vivienne, the blade didn’t shimmer out of existence anymore unless it dropped from her hand. The First Enchanter had said there were tools one could use to lessen the burden of creating the weapon solely from Fade energies. Those could be lost though, dropped in the heat of battle. If you weren’t as adept at creating a blade from nothing as from a tool, you could be in serious trouble. Asala preferred to not take that risk and would perfect, as well as keep up, the art of creating a blade without aids.

Beside her, Cole didn’t really acknowledge the nod before moving off again. Asala honestly couldn’t tell if he’d been close enough to aid her or simply… appeared beside her but that was ridiculous. People didn’t just appear out of nowhere. It was also something to consider later. They were in the middle of a battle.

It was a tough fight but soon enough the sound of something heavy being lifted and violently flung through the air rushed at them above the din. The impact of the trebuchet’s projectile was almost felt through the ground.

“A direct hit, Herald!” one of the siege engineers cheered at her. “Come on you lot! Reload!” Some of the warriors had fallen in the assault but another dozen Inquisition soldiers had managed to draw closer towards the end. This trebuchet was now well defended.

The crunch of fast moving footsteps approaching had many turning. It was another soldier however. “Y-Your Worship,” he gasped out, “we need help up the road. The other trebuchet isn’t firing and there are forces approaching. Two of our engineers have been taken out by projectiles.”

Asala gave a quick nod. “Do you need more qualified people or just defenders?” she asked as she began to move, her companions following her. The man shook his head.

“Just defenders.”

“Are there any soldiers left?” The man gave a swift nod. That was something at least. “Master Pavus and Sera, would you aid Seeker Pentaghast in defending this point? The rest with me,” she threw the order over her shoulder without stopping. The mage and elf nodded and while Cassandra frowned, she, too, acknowledge the request. With Cullen out on the field to the east and Leliana… Asala wasn’t sure where the woman was at the moment, they needed someone close to the entrance of Haven. Cassandra couldn’t argue with the logic and Asala _was_ taking the majority of their companions with her. It wasn’t like she went alone.

They took the path to the west side of the encampment and once they cleared the hill and trees, the trebuchet came into view and it didn’t look good.

“Damn it!” the soldier swore. The site had been overrun.

Asala quickly drew power and fired off a salvo of arcane barrage at the man in templar armour who was about to deliver a killing blow to a downed Inquisition soldier. Another barrage joined hers as it crashed into the enemy. Vivienne must have had the same thought. The templar fell backwards and landed in a crash of armour, smoke wafting heavenwards, as his companions turned as one. They weren’t many and were soon dispatched. The soldier that had rushed off to get them moved to help the only survivor up. Asala recognised his uniform.

“You’re a siege engineer.” He nodded at her statement. Asala frowned at the carnage. “Between the two of you, can you see to the trebuchet? We’ll hold off any incoming enemy.” Depending on what came along, it was a bold statement but there was no other way.

“We’ll manage, Your Worship,” the engineer said with a determined expression. Asala gave him a nod.

“Make haste.”

The enemy must not yet have realised they’d retaken the trebuchet as the opposition wasn’t bad. It was fight that left more than Asala winded but it wasn’t impossible. It wouldn’t last but it didn’t have to. The trebuchet was ready to fire and the heavy projectile whizzed through the air. For a second, Asala feared they’d made a mistake as the missile raced off towards the mountainside, away from the bulk of the enemy force. It crashed into the middle of the mountain with a thunderous crash as she moved towards the engineer and her assistant.

“Can you alter the course—?” A great rumble interrupted her and the ground shuddered. The siege engineer threw her an evil grin and Asala raised her eyes to the mountain where the rumble was being overtaken by a roar. Trees had begun to sway and were soon bending before the might of an avalanche that grew for every metre of mountainside it slid down. It was a monster by the time it reached the ground; a monster that swallowed up dark shapes, fires and vegetation alike without a grain of discrimination. Asala sucked in her breath at the bloodless massacre. The thunder had barely stopped before a roar of excitement rose from Haven as a whole. She felt her breath flow out of her along with the tension that had held her body taut just moments ago. The enemy’s force had been halved if not more. They would not be able to press their assault and hope to win.

Asala turned towards the grinning siege engineer with a smile. They’d certainly done a good job. She wouldn’t have thought of that in the heat of battle. Somewhere further out in the valley another, smaller avalanche must have been set off as a chain reaction because a faint roar could be heard.

But it was growing.

Asala frowned and turned back to look out of the landscape, trying to spot it. Had the projectile been too close to Haven after all? Or—

Clouds were forcefully part in the overcast sky above as a great shadow raced right towards them. Gasps echoed up and down the site and the sound of feet rushing to move out of the way created a din as Asala stared. No… that couldn’t— A faint glow was all the warning they got before a great, fiery ball suddenly sped towards them. Eyes widening, Asala threw herself as far away from the trebuchet as she could before the missile could impact with it. It wasn’t fast enough. She could feel the heavy beams making up the siege weapon lift under her feet as the missile tore a path right through them. The ground, when she hit it, shuddered violently and burning wood rained all around her. She covered her head as well she could while scrambling to get up and away.

Once out of immediate danger of the burning skeleton of the trebuchet, Asala cast her eyes around. Most of them hadn’t been close enough to it except for the siege engineer, the soldier helping her and Asala herself. The former had gotten crushed under a thick beam while the soldier was being helped up by Blackwall. Varric drew close to her and gave her a hand up.

“You okay?” He eyed her worriedly and Asala nodded as she stared at what was visible of the engineer. It wasn’t pretty. She forced herself to look away. The great shadow was moving away but there was no doubt it would come back… or try to take out any of their remaining trebuchets. Vashedan!

“It can't be, can it...?” Blackwall’s strained murmur could be heard despite the roaring fire a few metres away.

“If it is, that's just messed up!” Iron Bull declared angrily as he glared after the dragon. Asala had to agree. If that thing was here because the avalanche had awoken it, it wouldn’t have targeted the trebuchet so obviously… Probably. But for a dragon, a being of raw chaos, to be moving with purpose… Asala felt her head shake slowly. Blackwall was right. It couldn’t be… right?

“Darling, a hasty retreat would be in order.” Vivienne’s words kicked Asala out of her stare and had her head snapping around. This was no time for staring.

“Everyone to the gates!” There was nothing left for them at this post.

It didn’t take long before they were back at Haven’s entrance. Cullen was there, ushering everyone through as quickly as possible. Cassandra was standing by the gates, too. As soon as she saw them, she appeared to calm down a bit but she didn’t withdraw until they were almost at the gates. There weren’t many left and shortly after Asala and her group came through, the gates were pulled shut and barred. Not that it’d help much against a dragon. If it didn’t blow the gate to smithereens, the enemy would soon crush it or simply climb the low wall surrounding Haven and parts of it was a simple palisade at that! Unless the dragon went down, and depending on what remained of the enemy’s force, they were fighting a lost battle, Asala feared.

“We need everyone back to the chantry!” Cullen’s angry voice resounded across the entrance as he climbed the steps from the gate.

“Commander, that’s a dragon,” Asala said as she shook her head. What else could be said or done?

“I know!” He was beyond frustrated; she could hear it in his voice. The battle field had swiftly fallen into chaos. He turned halfway up the stair to glare at her even if the feeling that evoked the expression wasn’t due to her. “But it’s the only building that might hold against… that beast!” he declared with a helpless gesture. He wanted to use another word, _any_ word had to be more fitting to describe it but he couldn’t find it. Asala understood his frustration. He heaved an irate sigh. “At this point…” Cullen shook his head but didn’t say what they all knew was the truth. “Just make them work for it.” It was a compromise. He was their leader, just as much as she and Cassandra, and he couldn’t just blurt out that all was lost. It was their duty to fight and make the situation not seem entirely hopeless. Asala nodded.

“Take the right path, Commander, and we’ll take the left.” Dividing up everyone went swiftly and smoothly, leaving Asala with Blackwall, Dorian and Cassandra, as well as Cole. The young man seemed to almost appear out of nowhere beside her and while she frowned at him, she quickly directed the others around. “See you at the chantry, Commander,” she finished with a nod that he returned before leaving.

“The villagers will need help if they are to survive this.” Dorian’s comment proved to be correct. Asala had no doubt Cullen did all he could to ensure any person he met on his route, be they soldier, servant or pilgrim, made it to the chantry unscathed. In fact, it was probably because they split up that they managed to save everyone who was still alive.

“Move! Keep going! The chantry is your shelter.” High Chancellor Roderick was leaning on the open doors of the building, ushering anyone who came along inside. One of his hands was holding onto his side where his vestments were stained a deeper red than anywhere else. As they went inside, Cole stopped by the man’s side just as he collapse, catching him. It was almost as if the boy had known it would happen. Asala turned towards them but Cole had already moved the High Chancellor’s free arm over one shoulder to support him inside.

“He tried to stop a templar,” the boy said as they hobbled inside and two Inquisition soldiers moved to quickly shut the doors behind them. “The blade went deep. He’s going to die.” It was said with such a plain, unintoned voice that it didn’t seem like he cared but at the same time… there was just something about the boy that made it impossible to assume as much. Asala frowned at him. What was it about this boy, barely older than Sera by the looks of it but younger in his demeanour? She couldn’t put her finger on it. He wasn’t a mage but every time he came close enough to brush against, her mark tingled or hummed faintly, almost… happily? It was such an odd sensation. She’d never had anything else make her mark react like this. She didn’t mind it as it wasn’t bad or painful but since her mark _did_ react, she’d prefer to know why rather than not.

Beside the boy. Roderick’s mouth curled into a strained smile. “What a… charming boy.” He managed a light voice despite the pain eating at him. She could heal him… She _should_ , shouldn’t she? Cole moved towards a nearby chair and Asala followed. When they were in Val Royeaux, Revered Mother Hevara hadn’t wished to be healed by her touch, but she’d still offered. It was the offer that mattered. As Cole helped the older man onto the seat, she opened her mouth—

“Herald!” She paused and turned, only somewhat reluctantly, towards Cullen as he came hurrying down the nave towards them. He looked grim. “Our position is not good. That dragon stole back any time you might have earned us.” He met her eyes as he spoke, she could read what wasn’t being said in them; they were in a bad position and there was no way out. She swallowed.

“I’ve seen an archdemon.” They both turned their attention onto Cole where he crouched beside the High Chancellor. “I was in the Fade, but it looked like that.” Asala frowned. He’d been in the Fade? No mortal without magic dreamed that vividly, or accurately, but he didn’t appear to be a made. He hadn’t used any magic as far as she could sense and he carried twin daggers, nothing else.

“I don’t care what it looks like,” Cullen replied with annoyance and a clipped gesture of his hand. “It has cut a path for that army. They’ll kill everyone in Haven.” He was right. As strange as the boy may be, he wasn’t what mattered right now. The enemy did, and the Inquisition. In the bleak future, the Elder One had won because no one knew he was coming. Now, once again, hardly anyone knew he was coming or what he planned beyond the Inquisition. Asala wasn’t sure if Leliana _had_ sent out any notes about their foe to anyone beyond Haven. She doubted it though. If the Inquisition died, down to a man, then the future would still come to pass. Was it ridiculous of them to think they could change the future? Maybe it was all meant to happen one way or another and their struggle was futile.

Maraas shokra. Asit kost say sataa. Asit tal-eb.

That was what she’d been taught; everything was as it was meant to be. Were they no better than Alexius for trying to fight it?

Anaan esaam Qun…

“The Elder One doesn’t care about the village.” She could hear the boy’s voice as if from a distance. “He only wants the Herald.” Alexius had said the same, but the Inquisition had fought the Elder One after her disappearance. This Elder One would take down any opposition that came after him no matter what. The… thing, man, or whatever he was that had stood upon that hill, that must be the one they called the Elder One. He looked… unnatural. Was he and the future truly what was meant to be? A Blight wasn’t what was meant to be though, it wasn’t natural. A dragon was a being of chaos and if _that_ particular dragon was an archdemon…

“Is there a way to stop him?” she spoke slowly, still unsure whether she was just continuing a pointless fight against the inevitable or not.

“It won’t be easy,” Cole said as he met her gaze. “He has a dragon.” Asala blinked at the very obvious statement. It pulled her back into the here and now due to how absurd it sounded. She didn’t know what to say to that.

“We know what he…!” Cullen frowned and then shook his head and turned to Asala. Maybe he remembered Krem’s words from the gate at the start of the siege; the boy had been this way the whole trip. There was no point arguing with something or someone who wouldn’t, or couldn’t, change. “Adaar, there are no tactics to make this survivable,” he told her with a shake of his head. His eyes said he didn’t like it, that he didn’t want to spell it out. “The only thing that slowed them was the avalanche. We could turn the remaining trebuchet, cause one last slide…” They knew the outcome he was implying but it brought him no joy even if it could guarantee the death of their enemy.

“We’re overrun.” Cassandra was coming down the hall. “To hit them, we’d bury Haven.” Cullen turned so he could see both her and Asala.

“We’re _dying_ , Seeker, but we can decide how.” He trailed off and then shook his head before turning his attention to Asala again. “Many don’t get that choice.”

 _No… many don’t_ , she agreed silently as she met the commander’s stare. She had chosen her path when she left Par Vollen. She’d chosen uncertain life and danger. Now, here they all stood, her included. They could choose to wait and die… or die on their own conditions.

“Yes. That.” Cole’s words were low but when he raised his voice, they turned to look at him. “Chancellor Roderick can help. He wants to say it before he dies.”

“There is a path.” The man’s voice was faint, strained, and he had to take a moment to catch his breath before continuing. His struggle to speak reminded Asala that she should heal him but with the enemy breathing down their neck… “You wouldn’t know it… unless you’d made the summer pilgrimage… As I have.” Despite it not being the best thing for a man in his condition, the High Chancellor pushed himself to his feet. “The people can escape. She must have shown me… Andraster… She must have shown me so I could…” He gasped and Cole came to his side to help him remain upright. “…tell you. If so, then… my being here could be more than mere accident. _You_ could be more…” He stopped to collect his breath as Asala stared down at him, frowning. There was a way for everyone, for the Inquisition, to escape… Possibly.

“That is… a possibility, yes,” she finally agreed, speaking slowly and never taking her eyes off the clergy man.

“You’re serious?” Cullen sounded both surprised and reluctant. “And when the mountain falls? What about you?” Asala didn’t turn towards him, but she wasn’t even really seeing Roderick anymore either. A memory was playing in her mind, a fairly recent memory. Tall stone walls, taller than the ones surrounding them now, a green glow washing Dorian and her of most colour and the sounds of fighting as a heavy door burst open behind them. Someone was quoting passages from the Chant, accompanied not by music but the twang of a bow releasing arrows. During the days leading up to their second march upon the Breach, after things had calmed a bit between her and Leliana, Asala had spoken to the spymaster. She’d told the woman about the future. _“_ _One small life in exchange for a second chance at history? I always loved a bargain.”_ That’s what Leliana had said…

“You can’t be serious…” Cullen’s low voice and faintly incredulous words came to her as though he spoke somewhere far away. Asala slowly turned back to him.

“I know many see me as a speaker, a herald, of your prophet—”

“It’s _more_ than just a speaker for Andraste. Your very presence gives them hope.”

“Commander,” Asala said his title sharply as she turned to him and grasped his wrist with her own hand. Their eyes met and after a moment, her face softened but her golden eyes remained as adamant as before. “I know I don't need to remind you of my report of that possible future I experienced and the moments before Dorian and I returned. Our first line of defence had fallen, our second was failing...” It was the same situation now. “And the words I told Master Pavus then are just as true when I tell them to you now; if you need more time, I will give it to you.” Sataareth hass-toh issala ebasit, the words echoed in her mind and, after a second’s thought, she repeated them aloud. Somewhere behind Cassandra a soft gasp emanated. A swift glance in that direction revealed that Josephine had joined them. The woman obviously remembered the day Asala had quoted the words to her and explained them. It was nice to know she did. Maybe Josephine could give some insight later as to the reasoning behind Asala’s actions and thoughts. Hopefully it would give some comfort and inspiration to the troops if they survived.

If there was no other way to hold off the dragon and this Elder One, then so be it. It wasn’t a nice solution but if it was the best one, they couldn’t argue. She may be what inspired people but they’d be a whole lot less inspired once dead. The Inquisition couldn’t afford to die, not here and certainly not now. Something was better than nothing, the whole Inquisition was worth one of their leaders, and if she was the only one who stood a chance of keeping the enemy's interest... then, truly, so be it. She didn't have to like it, but she would do as was required of her. A soldier didn't forsake his company for fear of death. He'd accepted that possibility when he took up the sword. Sometimes you could throw just about anything at an enemy and sometimes you needed specific tools. Need and duty were not unfamiliar subjects to the commander due to his background, she knew that. He knew it, too, and acceptance shone in his eyes. She let go of his wrist.

“Perhaps you’ll surprise it, find a way…”

It was sweet that he still hoped. He could hope, she wouldn’t take that from him, as long as he didn’t prevent what had to be done. Asala gave him a faint smile and a one-shouldered shrug. Maybe he was right, maybe she would get lucky... but it wasn't something she was counting on. What had Iron Bull said during their trip back from Redcliffe? Maybe they'd succeed in sealing the Breach, end the war and all their soldiers would go home and get fat. It could happen... but it wouldn't.

Maybe it wouldn’t, no, but if they didn’t stop the war today… at least they survived to stop it another day.

Cullen turned and moved down the nave towards his lieutenants and the other people that had joined Asala on her travels. His voice grew fainter the further into the building he went. “Inquisition! Follow Chancellor Roderick through the chantry. Move!”

Beside her, Cole once again moved to act as a support for the High Chancellor. “Herald…” She turned her attention onto the man. “If you are meant for this, if the Inquisition is meant for this, I pray for you.” Asala regarded him silently then gave him a faint smile and a nod. If prayers helped him find peace, then he was welcome to them. A few Inquisition soldiers quickly moved by as Cullen came back down the aisle.

“They’ll load the trebuchet inside the walls,” he explained as the soldiers left the building. Asala hoped they made it down there and back in one piece. The Inquisition would need every member left after the losses it had just incurred. “Keep the Elder One’s attention until we’re above the tree line. If we are to have a chance –if _you_ are to have one– let that thing hear you.”

Asala smiled but restricted her chuckle to a mental level. “I’ll speak to him loud and clear, Commander,” she said before turning… and almost walking straight into Cassandra. She managed to stop before that happened though and frowned at the shorter woman. “Yes?”

“You cannot go alone.”

Both Asala’s brows rose. She very much could and very much was. “Yes, I can.”

Cassandra glared back, brows dipping low. “No. You are one person. You won’t be able to hold his attention long enough.” It sounded more like she said Asala wasn’t _allowed_ to go alone.

“She speaks truly, darling.” Vivienne came up behind her and joined them. Asala heaved a sigh before looking around. Most of her companions were still in the main hall of the chantry while everyone else had begun to file out. They didn’t have time for this.

“All right, here’s the deal,” Asala countered, annoyed, “a _few_ of you may volunteer and come with me. However, you _will_ leave when I tell you to. Period. There is no discussing that.” She met Cassandra’s eyes, glare for glare. Before the Nevarran could nod, Asala made an addendum. “And you’re not one of them.” Cassandra’s frown deepened but she could tell the woman understood why. It was the same argument as when they’d prepared to invade Redcliffe Castle. If they were going to aim for the Inquisition as a whole to survive this, they would need every leader they had. Especially if they were definitely about to lose one in the attempt. In the end, Cassandra heaved an irate sigh.

“Fine.”

“Thank you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Vashedan – Crap  
> Maraas shokra. Asit kost say sataa. Asit tal-eb. – There’s nothing to struggle against. Be at peace with the world. Things are the way they’re meant to be.  
> Anaan esaam Qun. – Victory is in the Qun.  
> Sataareth hass-toh issala ebasit. – It is my purpose to do what I must for you all.
> 
> I don't know about you guys but I was always slavishly obsessed with saving the townspeople. I refused to let anyone die. I have four different playthroughs that I watch online for ref material as I can't pause in a cutscene during the game to transcribe the dialogue. In one of them the townspeople were ignored on purpose but all the others missed almost half of them. I was so surprised, but then... maybe it's just I who's picky and a perfectionist? Confession: the only person I could maybe ignore (if I had to) would be Seggrit because, what the hell, man? You're pissy before I save you, you're pissy after I save you and you're pissy at Skyhold. There is just no pleasing you, is there?


	24. Chapter 24

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The attack on Haven draws to a close and the enemy is confronted.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here, have another. I'm addicted to inspiration. That, or I'm procrastinating.

It didn’t take too long before Asala stood outside the chantry, ready to go. Beside her stood Blackwall, Vivienne and Iron Bull. The court Enchanter had said it was part of her duty to aid Asala and stop the monster. She would also have a higher chance to survive longer with Vivienne beside her. Asala hadn’t protested. She’d been a bit surprised by Blackwall volunteering but the warden had urged her to let him come. The Elder One may hold an archdemon under his sway, making it impossible to tell if he was a darkspawn or not but if it was true… then it was his duty to be by her side. And then there was _that_ one…

“Why are you here?” Asala asked without turning her head or gaze to the other Qunari.

“I’d rather see this fight up close than miss it.”

“And you don’t think they would need to hear about this?” She spoke of the Ben-Hassrath, of course. He knew it without her having to drop any names. He lifted massive shoulders in a shrug.

“I got your spymaster to promise to send a note if I didn’t survive.” Asala couldn’t say she was sorry to have him at her side. He was a force to be reckoned with and if he wanted to play her bodyguard despite the suicidal note to this mission… she wasn’t about to say no. At least as long as he followed her order when she told him to retreat. “All right, time to get loud!” he declared with a wicked grin and they set off at a run. They needed to get to the lowest tier and out to the far western corner of Haven. There was a single trebuchet inside the palisade and that was their goal. It seemed like the lyrium-infested templar had yet to breach the outer defences as the village lay deserted. That didn’t mean they weren’t going to run into trouble. That assumption proved true when they arrived at the trebuchet.

The team of three that had gone off to load the weapon had apparently gotten most of their job done before being beset by the enemy that had climbed the wall. They were fighting for their lives now. One of them spotted the incoming reinforcement and his face brightened like a flashfire spell.

“Herald! The Herald comes—” he was cut off by a sword to his chest from the enemy he had taken his eyes off a fraction of a second too long. Asala cursed under her breath as they all drew their weapons, Asala summoning hers and Vivienne actually dual-wielding her staff and knight enchanter blade. She made a supremely impressive image as she charged into the fray.

“Is the trebuchet ready?” Asala yelled as they pressed back the enemy. There were only five of them, a small matter for a group of six.

“It’s very close to being in position! All that’s left after that is to load and fire!” one of the two soldiers answered her before driving his sword into another red templar.

“Then see to it! Leave the hostiles to us.” They both nodded their reply and broke free from the fight. The remaining enemies were soon cut down, leaving Asala and the rest to await the trebuchet’s prep to finish.

“All right, all that’s left is to load and—” An arrow took out the man’s throat and then another embedded itself in his head. He slumped over the controls as his companion began to back away, drawing his sword. Crystalline brutes were scrambling up the palisade to jump down on their side. They were far too many for Asala and Vivienne to take on alone via ranged means.

“It’s fine, Your Worship! All it needs is the wheel being turned and then loaded. It can be manned by one person!” The soldier had barely finished when his voice suddenly died in a choked gurgle and he began to lift up into the air. Thin, red lightning crackled around him as he floated upwards. A huge red templar, his red lyrium far more defined than the spikes that covered the brutes, stood on top of the fence, arm outstretched. His hand was crackling with the same red lightning.

“Take him down!” Asala called to Vivienne who immediately changed target and joined her in the assault. Iron Bull and Blackwall drew closer to the palisade as the first red templar came tumbling down to ground level. Between fiery arcane barrages and other spells, the crystalline warrior soon fell. The man he’d been holding aloft came crashing to the ground, too. Asala didn’t need to get closed to see it was a lost cause though. She swore loud and clear and focused on the incoming enemy instead. The man had said it was easy from here on out. She hoped it was because otherwise, they were in trouble.

It took a while but in the end, all the templars lay bleeding or shattered, depending on how far into the lyrium corruption they had descended. “Iron Bull, turn the wheel. Warden Blackwall, get the projectile into place.” They were the physically strongest of everyone present. If an enemy suddenly popped out of nowhere, then Asala and Vivienne should be able to take care of it long enough for the two warriors to grab their weapons and get ready at the very least.

“All right, let’s toss some rocks,” Iron Bull said as he put his axe to the side and began to turn the wheel at an alarming speed. It would have gone slower if a human or elf performed the action, Asala realised, but the Qunari was just that strong. It was a nervous wait with only a few red templars managing to climb the palisade while the trebuchet was readied. It was nothing two mages couldn’t handle though.

“Almost there!” Iron Bull called and moved to help Blackwall get the projectile into the sling. After that huge thing was in place it would only need one or two more turns to get the optimal tension, be locked into place and then released to fire.

“Asala, darling…” Asala frowned worriedly at the trebuchet and the two men but didn’t turn towards Vivienne.

“Yes, Court Enchanter?”

“Darling, we have got company,” Vivienne warned and there was just something in her voice that told Asala it was something other than what they had so far seen. She whipped around and froze. The thing lumbering towards them at a fast clip, compared to its size, was huge and horrid! It was completely crystalline and probably double the height of Iron Bull. Asala swallowed harshly and gripped her energy sword harder. She hoped she wasn’t as pale as she felt.

“Guys! You better finish up with that and quick!” she warned the men without turning around as Vivienne threw the winter’s grasp at it. Frost covered its whole shape and with every strained movement, crystal crackled as though it was breaking apart.

“Chin up, shoulders back and eyes forward, dear!” Vivienne ordered as she rushed in to slash at the monstrosity’s legs with her energy blade. Asala nodded and rushed at it, too. It didn’t take long before Iron Bull and Blackwall had joined them… but so had a number of red templars, too! A wall of fire flared to vivid life between them and the palisade, stretching far and slowing the reinforcement. “We will have to focus on one or the other! Control him and I will get a strong ice mine ready!” Between the three of them, they should be able to control the monstrosity, Asala silently agreed, while Vivienne concentrated on the spell.

Spotting the latest arrival in her peripheral vision, Asala threw up a barrier over the two warriors just before an arrow made contact with Blackwall. The projectile bounced off the shield with a clink as the Qunari whirled around and summoned an arcane barrage into her hand. As long as she had only melee fighters to contend with, they could manage to control the crowd beyond the wide fire wall. Hopefully.

Magic swirled in the air all around them, growing thicker by the second, before flaring into ground with a crack akin to ice you shouldn’t tread upon but had already set your foot on. “Done!” Vivienne called, her word a signal to Blackwall and Iron Bull to draw back. The ice mine flared to life a second later, cold magic racing up the length of the monstrosity’s limbs and freezing it in place. It roared in anger as it twisted its head. The ice had locked its jaw into place but it wouldn’t hold it for long. The spell was powerful but its hold thinned the higher it climbed on the creature. It would hold for the moment though, and that was all they needed to take care of the other red templars.

The fire wall dropped and the other opposition was engaged. As they took out one templar or crystalline brute after another, they could hear the crackling of ice breaking apart behind them. It was like a countdown and horribly nerve wrecking. Asala had just cracked the head of a crystalline brute in two when a great crash, like huge ice stalactites dropping and shattering against the floor of a cave, resounded from behind. A roar accompanied the sound. The monster was free. They whirled around to face it once more. Iron Bull finished taking the head off a red templar before he, too, turned.

“Slow it as much as possible!” Asala told Vivienne as they spread out and attacked it at all angles.

“You ladies need to watch out for its swing!” Blackwall shouted as he just barely managed to dodge a blow from one of the huge hands whose fingers had fused together to form an almost hammer-like bludgeon. His shield already carried a sizeable dent from when he hadn’t been as quick.

“Easier said than done!” Asala called back as she ducked under another arm and moved in close to take a swing at the back of one of its knees. More red lyrium cracked and broke off. How much would it take to bring it down!?

“Less talking!” Vivienne ordered as she moved in to hack away at the other leg. It was on the retreat that she came right in the line of fire for a heavy fist. She managed to raise a barrier just in time for it to take the burnt but she went rolling backwards cross the ground from the harsh blow.

“Madame Vivienne!” Blackwall was closest to her and quickly moved to her side to help her up.

“Eyes forward!” the woman admonished but she didn’t pull away as he grabbed her arm and helped her up. She’d dropped her arcane sword but wasn’t bringing it back out again. She’d instead fallen back to use only her staff. With one less melee combatant among them, Blackwall quickly moved back in to lighten the load on Iron Bull and Asala. Due to Vivienne’s extensive repertoire in ranged magic, and especially cold magic that the monster seemed to have a weakness to, the loss wasn’t a great one. Between them, the monstrosity soon went down with Iron Bull severing the head in three heavy whacks of his axe. He grumbled about it not being a clean hit but Asala ignored the muttering.

“Go. Now!” They all turned to stare at her as she moved towards the trebuchet.

“Now?” Blackwall announced incredulously as another red templar started to climb the palisade. Two sets of arcane barrages sent him tumbling back down on the wrong side, burning merrily.

“Yes, damn it, now!” Asala roared at them. Iron Bull fixed his axe to the harness on his back and then easily hoisted Vivienne up onto one shoulder before grabbing Blackwall’s arm.

“Come on.” It was said calmly and without much intonation of any kind but it was apparently enough. Blackwall gave a curt nod and they began their retreat towards the chantry and the secret path it held.

“Oh, darling!” Asala turned to see Vivienne having twisted in her seat atop the Qunari’s shoulder. “Catch!” she called and threw her staff before they got too far away. It sailed through the air and Asala had to jump half a step backwards to catch it. “Try bringing it back in one piece, please!” Asala watched them as the two warriors ran and then she quickly turned back to the trebuchet. She could try but… she doubted she would. If no one, or only three at most, came along to stop her, she could hold this position she believed. She hoped… All that was left was to fix the tension and set the firing mechanism into gear. She turned the wheel two more turns and located the firing lever. It was all set. Now all she needed was to wait for the signal that…

“No…” The whisper strained and almost lodged in her throat as she began backing away but the dragon that had suddenly swooped out from the cloud cover drew swiftly closer. It was close. Too close! She could see the fire starting to glow in its throat. Asala threw up a barrier and dove from the trebuchet. If it was aiming for her, she may be able to spare the weapon by getting further away from it. And then… she just needed to survive the blast so she could actually fire it, too! She landed hard but had only time to roll once before the dragon was upon her and it let loose its fiery breath. She could feel the scorching heat just beyond reach. She’d survived—

And then it exploded.

A wave of power lifted her off the ground and threw her several metres. Her head was spinning and dark spots were littering her vision. Asala blinked several times as she touched her head. Any head injury at this point was almost a guaranteed defeat. Scrambling dizzily to her knees, she tried to make her vision stop swimming so she could ascertain that the trebuchet was still whole and functional. She blinked until the large shape a short distance away became clearer. It looked whole. She breathed a sigh of relief… that quickly died in her throat.

A tall shape was moving closer through the inferno left in the dragon’s wake. The closer it got, the clearer it became and the more she was certain… That was the thing they’d seen earlier, before the fight started in earnest; the Elder One.

Asala forced herself to her feet. She had to get up and get to the trebuchet or… anything! She scrambled for Vivienne’s staff where it lay halfway between the siege weapon and her. The tall creature, gangly limbs but impossibly wide shoulders and bulky head, was coming closer. She had almost made it to the staff when a heavy thud came from the path to the area, followed by the crashing gallop of something very heavy. It didn’t take long before the dragon came into view. Asala stumbled the last few steps forward and grabbed the staff before she came around to face the dragon. It was almost close enough to touch. It was magnificent and horrifying at the same time because it… There was just something about it that looked… wrong, _felt_ wrong, too. It raised its head, releasing a piercing shriek that made Asala cringe. She wondered what spell she could throw at it before it dropped its head and swallowed her whole.

“Enough!”

A shockwave of power flared from behind her and raced past her at the dragon. It demurred, taking a step back, and Asala accepted the risk. She was as good as toast anyway. Turning around, she faced the creature at her back. His torso was bare and the skin stretched impossibly over it. Where it didn’t cover the chest cavity, the muscles appeared to have started the crystallisation process brought on by red lyrium and fused with the piece of a sharply pointed breastplate. Thin shards were already shooting out from one side of his bald head and red, spidery veins were visible over the skin he actually had. It was a disturbing site.

“Pretender, you toy with forces beyond your ken. No more.” It… _his_ voice was deep and somewhat gravelly.

Asala stared at him. Behind her, she could hear the heavy breathing from the dragon. One move from either and she was dead. She would not get to fire the trebuchet, she understood that much… But the least she could do was try to buy the others as much time as possible while still alive. “Whatever you are, I’m not afraid,” she bit out as she slowly but surely gained control over her breathing.

The creature stared at her. His lips were deformed, making him appear to wear a permanent sneer. “Words mortals often hurl at the darkness. Once they were mine.” He shook his head. “They are always lies.” His voice was so calm, so sure. “Know me, know what you have pretended to be. Exalt the Elder One!” he intoned the name harshly. “The _will_ that is Corypheus.” His voice had an odd lilt and a very faint echo seemed to follow it. It almost sounded as though he wasn’t actually speaking Common but another language and some spell was transforming the words, translating them, as they left his mouth. The words even had a stilted, nearly old-fashioned flow to them, making him sound old.

He raised a hand, pointing one gnarled, clawed finger at her. “You will kneel.”

Asala ground her teeth together. “Go hang yourself,” she bit out through them.

The man regarded her in uncaring silence for a second before reaching into a simple pouch slung low on his bony hip. “You will resist,” he said calmly, retrieving a large, dark orb. “You will always resist. It matters not.” It sounded as though if he had cared more, he would’ve been disgusted with her. “I am here for the Anchor,” he said as his gaze swept to the orb in his hand. It sparked to life, tiny sparks of red power dancing like lightning over its surface. The power around the orb grew by the second, crackling ominously. Asala’s hand began to hum. She tightened the marked hand into a hard fist. It didn’t help. The mark just grew louder in time with the orb. “The process of removing it begins now.”

Asala blinked. Removing it? Her mark? Was that even poss—

The creature threw out his free hand towards her and it sparked to glowing, angrily red life. Her mark flared to brilliant life as well, crackling and sending flares up her arm. Asala ground her teeth together harshly at the sensation. It was like when she closed rifts but instead of power being sucked _into_ the mark… it felt like he was trying to rip it _out_ through the mark. Her hand began shaking under the stress of the magic pulling on her and she trying to force her muscles to remain still. Another, stronger and more painful, flare shot up her arm. Asala bit back a cry and dropped the staff, grasping instead the wrist of her marked hand with her now free hand. On a mental level, she began pulling on the power he was trying to rip from her hand. She didn’t know what would happen if he succeeded but it felt as though he would tear her hand, if not her whole _arm_ , off in the process!

“It is your fault, “Herald”.” She raised her gaze to him again. She hadn’t even noticed when she closed her eyes and dropped her head. “You interrupted a ritual years in the planning, and instead of dying, you stole its purpose.”

“I did no such thing!” she hissed back at him but the next second the pull on her mark intensified and she couldn’t keep the pained cry inside. She fell to her knees, hand cramping around her wrist. She was not going to lose like this!

“I do not know how you survived, but what marks you as “touched”, what you flail at rifts, I crafted to assault the very heavens.” He ignored her comment in favour of increasing the pull once again. His hand flared stronger and her mark responded… but it wasn’t going anywhere.

“There _is no_ heaven!” she snarled at him.

“Maraas imekari.”

Asala blinked… and then saw red. How _dared_ he!?

“Pashaara! As-eb vashe-qala! Ebasit vash-issra sataa-ost, vashedan katoh-qalaba!” she screeched at the thing. She knew what he was now, could hear it in his pronunciation of the Qunlat. Only someone with Tevene as their mother tongue would twist her language in such a way. To speak those words when he knew nothing but chaos and greed! Filthy creature! She was going to tear him apart! Rage and magic choked up her throat. Her mark flared as he jerked on it once more. Asala cried out in pain but _willed_ the yell to transform into words. He _would not_ have the last word! “N-aaargh—basra vashedan!” She jerked on the power tearing at her mark and felt it move her way and then his, like a tug-o-war.

“Childish,” the creature admonished. “You use the Anchor to undo my work? The gall!” He sounded more insulted over the fact that he found her lacking as an opponent rather than how she dared to even try.

“Fuck you! Take it if you can!” she snarled back and jerked at the power again. She felt it give if only an infinitesimal degree, but that it gave meant it _could_ and that was all she needed.

“It should never even have been yours to begin with and so it is not a difficult matter to choose an action for.” And then he pulled again and it felt much like how she imagined it would be like when the arm is torn out of its socket. It was a physical pain with mental consequences. The pain blinded her momentarily but she could hear the rapid clip of something, someone, moving closer. When a large hand grasped her wrist hard she just about managed to pull her other hand free before she was lifted off the ground. Her arm screamed in protest as she was lifted high and finally came face to face with the creature.

“I once breached the Fade in the name of another, to serve the Old Gods of the empire _in person_. I found only chaos and corruption, dead whispers.” She could have told him that. Asala glared at him and gritted her teeth against the pain. Could she claw out one of his eyes before he killed her? Would he catch her free hand before it even got halfway to his face? “For a thousand years I was confused, but no more. I have gathered the _will_ to return under no name but my own, to champion withered Tevinter and correct this blighted world.” He glared at her, at last showing some sort of stronger emotion. “ _Beg_ that I succeed, for I have seen the throne of the gods, and _it was empty_.”

“Just proof that your illusions never existed at all!” she spat back at him. The creature’s brows, or where the hair they consisted of had once grown, dipped lower and then she was suddenly sailing through the air, flung like a ragdoll. Her back hit something. Hard. Asala crumbled against it and through the haze of pain she recognised the material; wood. A few quick glances around told her she had landed on the trebuchet. It was still unharmed, and… it was loaded and ready to fire. The firing lever was a step and a half to her left. Could she jump for it? Would he expect it? …There hadn’t been a signal yet though.

A glance in the opposite direction revealed a sword lying where its owner had dropped it as they fell in battle. She needed more time, the _Inquisition_ needed more time.

“The Anchor is permanent.” She could hear him moving towards her. She had to make a choice _now_. “You have spoilt it with your stumbling.” Asala scrambled forward and grabbed the word. She had a sword of her own, one not of steel, one that couldn’t be taken from her… but it was better left a secret. If she ended up close enough to him once more and the signal hadn’t been sighted… she’d try to cut him. Until then, she needed something to distract him with. The Elder One simply glanced at her weapon and sneered. “So be it. I will begin again, find another way to give this world a nation, and god, it requires.” She glared at him but couldn’t help her eyes flitting over to the dragon as it drew closer to him. They made a monstrous pair…

Something at the very edge of her vision drew her gaze. She made the motion slow despite wanting to glance quickly to not miss it, forcing her eyes to travel up his form to just above his head and… There! A burning arrow flew through the sky. The signal, it _had_ to be. She had all she needed.

“And you.” His faintly accusing voice drew her attention back to him. “I will not suffer even an unknowing rival. You _must_ die.”

“You’re mad as well as blind and delusional,” she snorted, slowly shaking her head. “If that is what you seek, I don’t even _want_ to be your rival. And in that case, we should both disappear,” she sneered and whipped around. Setting a booted foot to the firing lever, she shoved _hard_. She would only get one chance. She couldn’t fail. If he didn’t kill her, the dragon might destroy the trebuchet. Either way, it would all be for naught.

The chain sprang free with a tremendous clattering, the cradle with its projectile resting snugly inside shooting heavenwards. They all followed the missile’s trajectory through the air as it flew like a bird… and crashed high into the mountain. Not even a second passed before the din rose from the mountaintop. A white wave began to descend the mountainside at a horrific speed, levelling all in its path. She’d done it! The Inquisition would survive this and, through them, hundreds of thousands others could be saved. Leliana had been right. One small life in exchange for something this big… It was worth it. She may not like dying here with _him_ but she could accept it if this was the outcome. If the war didn’t end here, or the enemy wasn’t at least severely crippled, and the Inquisition didn’t survive, the South would just continue as before. An unfathomable amount of lives would be lost. Then, the Qunari would be next. It couldn’t be allowed. She truly had meant the words she told Dorian and later repeated to Cullen. It was all worth it.

The question now was if the Elder One would try to kill her before the avalanche did. The creature turned his eyes from the approaching wave of snow and onto her, narrowing them. She met his stare head on… and then another image superimposed itself over him, over it all. She still saw the true setting but it was as if through a veil, a veil made out of Redcliffe castle. A tortured redhead with pale eyes stood where the creature was, their expressions bleeding together even though they were nowhere near the same height. The dragon screeched but it sounded distant and then it swept a wing about the monster but the redhead remained in place with the arm around her neck she tried to peel off. As the dragon rose in the air, leaving an empty space behind, the redhead suddenly broke the headlock and shoved her assailant away. She ripped free the daggers at her sides and turned to face the enemy…

The roar of the approaching avalanche snapped Asala out of her trance. Her head whipped around. The image, the _memory_ , of Redcliffe Castle was gone but the feeling remained. There was always a chance, always a reason to fight! As long as there was a will… there was a way. The blockage of her throat suddenly burst and she turned and ran. If she could make it to the chantry then, even if the avalanche reached her, the building might hold against the force. She could always dig her way out as long as she wasn’t buried without shelter! She could survive! She _would_ survive! She couldn’t die now, not yet!

Her breaths grew shallow as she raced, her throat locking up again. On one hand, it didn’t feel like she needed the air, she was light as a feather and moved like the wind. But on the other hand, her chest was beginning to hurt from the insufficient amount of oxygen.

She’d done this before, she realised mutely as her vision shrank to only focus upon the path back to the chantry. She’d done it on Par Vollen. She’d run instead of conforming when faced with a situation that demanded her do just that, do the _right_ thing, or change. She had become afraid and she ran. Now, she faced another difficult situation, a worse one as it was a life or death situation, but the principle was the same. Once again, she was faced with a decision… and in the end, the _very_ end, she was scrabbling for survival, for something _more_ , something _else_ than what was meant to be. How did that agree with all she believed in, trusted and declared true? Was it the dragon blood? Did it run too strong? Or was it even that? Was she more like the Southerners than she wished to acknowledge? ...Or was she more a dragon than even Southern civilised order could allow? Something wild that fought due to sheer instinct and refused to be prey?

The horror of the revelation, the conclusion that would come at the end, closed up her throat completely. She didn’t want to know! She—

—had reached the chantry.

But then the ground gave way beneath her. No, the floor, she realised as she saw the wooden beams high above her head got even further away. Had the assault and the two avalanches weakened the foundations of the building? Had all her running and defiance been for naught in the end? Rock rushed up all around her, walls closing in, and then darkness.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Maraas imekari. – A child bleating without meaning. (Speaking of something you know nothing about.)  
> Pashaara! As-eb vashe-qalab. Ebasit vash-issra sataa-ost, vashedan katoh-qalaba! – Enough! This is bullshit. Your ideas and views are a shitty illusion, foolish glory animal!  
> Basra vashedan! – Foreigner trash!
> 
> Mad, mad lady is bad, bad company.  
> I really like this chapter. It's one of those important points in a story that gives insight or mean a lot for story development. The end here is meant to shake the unshakeable foundations of the Qun and prepare Asala for the mindset she will settle into as the Inquisitor.
> 
> The Elder One attacks Haven! Haven is defeated. You gained Sad Splinters from Haven's chantry doors. You threw it away. Aww. (Sad door is sad.)  
> (Because you gain Sad Splinters from every other keep door and can then turn them into a weapon but you get nothing from Haven. No souvenir!


	25. Chapter 25

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The avalanche took Haven in a snowy embrace and didn't let go. Did the Inquisition manage to get away? Did anyone survive?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Slightly shorter than normal. It was a good place to end though.

Consciousness returned slowly with flickers of sight and sound but the loud hum, and occasional crackle, from her mark, as well as the cold was constant. Despite her never being truly cold in Haven before, she was now chilled to her very bones. Asala moved, attempting to roll over from her prone position. She managed but pain stabbed at her whole body and a few boards made a loud clatter as they fell off her. The only reason she knew was because she touched them and the distinctly wooden sound the made against the stone floor. Trying to concentrate upon her hand to create a light failed. In the end, she simply pulled on the magic surrounding her mark and it flared to life, brightening the tomb with a wash of green. It didn’t do much for it but any light was better than none in Asala’s opinion. She lay there, unwilling to move until she knew nothing was badly injured. She had no energy or concentration left to scan her body with healing magic so it was down to old fashioned sight and touch. It didn’t take long. Aside from the bruises and a few shallow cuts, she seemed all right. It didn’t feel like she had any internal bleedings or broken bones either.

Asala turned her eyes skywards. High above was a stone ceiling and, higher still, the end of a hole that looked decidedly blocked off. The light from her mark couldn’t reach the mouth of it but it was a safe guess. Turning her head around, she squinted at the walls. They had deep dents in them, like little pockets. Heaving herself to all four, she crawled over to the closest one only to rear back when she was only a metre away. The holes were full of bones! Getting to her feet as quickly as she could due to pain and vertigo, Asala looked around. All the walls had tiny shelves dug into them. This was a catacomb then? She was… beneath the chantry, wasn’t she?

…She hoped nothing in here was about to come to life.

The Breach _was_ closed and these skeletons were all without any skin or weapons but a few hundred shuffling skeletons were still a few hundred shuffling skeletons, weapons or no. Following the wall, she quickly found that there was only one exit out of the chamber. She took it and left, moving as fast as her aching limbs would allow. The dizziness passed as she shuffled through the hallways but the pain and the cold remained. Never before had she wished for a cloak or coat of some kind as much as she did now. At least she had light. The mark continued to glow brightly even when she stopped actively feeding it magic, it just dimmed ever so slightly.

The hallways really didn’t lead anywhere but one way and everywhere she looked there was ice dusting the walls. There were a few more rooms to the sides but they were all dead ends with the same little pockets filled with skeletons. This village had to be really old and no one must have left it much. It was the kind of place where you were born and died. Asala wondered how long it had actually existed as most places like that would stagnate and the blood would grow old in time. Too many families interbreeding again and again with no new source put into the mix would do no one any favours.

After what felt like hours a faint light appeared in the distance. Asala squinted and moved a bit faster. Was that…? It was. Finally, an exit. She couldn’t really describe how relieved she was that it didn’t look blocked off. There was no telling how far the tunnels went and if the entrance had been near either avalanche’s path. The light coming from the exit was the diffused sort that filtered down through a heavy cover of clouds in the late afternoon before the sun begins to set, she was sure of it. Did that mean then that she’d been out of it almost a whole night and day? The battle had begun after sundown after the celebrations had really kicked off. How many did they lose due to careless behaviour or clumsy limbs, both caused by alcohol?

Suddenly her mark sent a strong tingle racing up her arm. It was awfully similar to the sensation when a rift was about to open. Asala slowed down to a crawl as she glanced around. She really regretted not having had time, or been in the frame of mind even, to grab Vivienne’s staff as she left the trebuchet site. If she was about to be in a fight now… she would be in a bad place. Her mark had been super sensitive ever since meeting the Elder One and his attempt at removing it, too. Now that she thought about it, it was almost as if it continuously pulled in the tiniest of wisps of magic. It worried her now because like any bucket you placed under a leaking roof… it was going to fill up sooner or later if you didn’t empty it. What did that mean for her mark? If it was directly connected to the Land of the Dead… the Fade, did that mean she would continuously leech magical energy from natural deposits in this world and filter it back into the Fade? She needed Solas to help her figure this one out. And then she needed to know how to control if not stop it. She may be weary around magic but if it occurred naturally in the realm of the living, then it was meant to be there and removing it would be unnatural and wrong.

A faint murmur made Asala freeze and cast her gaze around. There was no one here and the last place she’d seen any skeletons was a good while back in a side room. She glanced over her shoulder but there was no shuffling, no clattering of bone coming up the hallway. She slowly released a breath she hadn’t realised she’d been holding. It was probably nothing…

And then the whisper came again.

A chill raised down Asala’s spine and she whirled back around, wide eyes scanning the chamber before her and that oh so tempting exit not too far away. She swallowed. There was no one here. Her breath made little clouds of fog and they were coming faster now. She was actually surprised her breath was warmer than the air. She didn’t feel warm enough for there to be a difference in temperature.

Her mark sending a jolt up her arm made her jump and then she was off at a fast clip. Screw it! The exit was really close! Even if there was something in here, she could make it. She was halfway through the chamber when the mark began to hum loudly and then pulse. The next moment, the air tingled in time with her mark’s heartbeat before two wraiths and three shrouded demons shimmered into existence. There was no rift! How?! Was it because of all the dead? The temperature dropped radically, setting her teeth to chattering. The breath of the demons came out as puffs of mist but it didn’t look warm… it appeared _they_ were colder than the surrounding air. They all zeroed in on her a second after they appeared.

Asala managed to get a barrier up a heartbeat before the bombardment began. The demons’ icy powers left fern frost growing at a disturbing pace all over the shield. She could _feel_ it sap the barrier of its strength. The wraiths’ pure arcane bolts didn’t help the matter either as she kept feeding her barrier power. She could continue like this, they all could, but it would come down to who would break first, who would run out of energy. Asala was fairly certain it would be her. Would she die here? Just another frozen corpse in a catacomb filled with icy bones. The cold and weariness made it hard to think, hard to concentrate and underneath the fear and drain upon her power caused by the icy chaos crashing into her shield, her mark hummed louder and beat stronger and stronger. She grasped her marked hand with the other, surprised she could still close the fingers around it. She ought to be too cold for that! Soon, her breath would stop misting and just be an icy cloud as well.

The mark beat stronger.

Asala screwed her eyes shut and sank to the icy floor. She’d done the impossible. She’d managed to keep her powers and mark under control, she’d faced countless demons, she’d travelled through time and back again without losing her mind, she’d survived a direct confrontation with their main opponent, had outrun an avalanche and _this_ was how it would end? _This_ was where she would die?! She choked back an angry sob. The mark was pulsing too loudly. It made it hard to think.

_Stop it._

She was so cold.

“J-just… stop it…”

Her teeth wouldn’t stop chattering and her mark wouldn’t quiet down.

“Just stop it!”

Power exploded all around her, flaring out like a storehouse of gaatlok barrels going off. The mark _burned_! Shrieks echoed up and down the chamber walls. She wasn’t even sure if one of them weren’t hers. Everything was washed in a bright, green light.

It died. Slowly. The sound disappeared first but the hum that usually came from the mark to echo gently in her ears was everywhere around her now. The burning ball of green energy above her head slowly faded into nothingness, taking the hum with it. The chamber lay empty except for her. The whole place quieted as her breathing slowed but… there were traces of… _something_. It felt like… her mark, like the Fade. Asala just sat there for a long while, staring at the ever darkening exit. She had to… move. She was so cold. She _had_ to move.

She began by crawling towards the exit. By the time she reached the mouth of the catacombs, she was once again perpendicular. It didn’t make her feel any better though. Just beyond the ice stalactite-adorned opening a blizzard was raging. She didn’t want to go out there but there was nothing to burn in here to keep warm and wait for the weather to pass. It could be worse, she consoled herself. The wind wasn’t too bad and the snowfall wasn’t heavy. It was better to move immediately, wasn’t it? How would she otherwise find the others? She didn’t know what to do. One part said go another decried it as madness.

What made her leave the cave in the end was the fact that the demons had appeared out of nowhere in there, no rift, no nothing. If they were drawn there because it was a catacomb, the final resting place and well of so many people’s sorrow as they took farewell of loved ones, she didn’t want to hang around to see if there was any more of them. She’d rather brave the snow and wind.

It didn’t take long for her to begin to doubt the decision. The cold, fear and weariness were wreaking havoc on her ability to look at matters logically, sensibly. The wind howled as though it agreed with her. A dark spot appeared against the white ground in the growing twilight. Asala frowned. It didn’t look like a rock… She pressed forward until she almost fell over it. When had she closed her eyes? She didn’t know.

The thing that had caught her attention was a broken cart. It listed sadly, both its left-hand side wheels gone. No wonder it had been abandoned. But the important point was that it _was_ here. That meant someone had passed this way. Asala didn’t know how much the Inquisition had managed to salvage and bring with them as they fled Haven and it was impossible to say if this wagon had belonged to the invading force or not. She would take the chance, the risk, and hope it wasn’t the latter. She pressed on, hoping that the general direction the wagon was pointing in was the right way to go. If she’d been the praying kind, she might have done that. She could see why people would turn to something else, something they believed greater than themselves in trying situations like this, but… She ground her teeth. It was fucking faith that had gotten them into this shit, wasn’t it?

Idiots who believed they could be gods, that there was someplace to go where they could attain powers that allowed them to rule others. That monster, the Elder One… _Corypheus_ , had said he championed Tevinter. Tevinter… Her teeth were chattering badly. The cold was numbing.

“A-always… b-bloody Tevinter!” she growled and willed herself to take another step forward. She swallowed around the cold air that cut her lungs with each breath. “H-hisser-raas… qalab-asala b-basra vashedan.” But could she honestly speak like that anymore? Could she really? She’d ran in Haven. She’d gone out to that trebuchet knowing and accepting it would be the last thing she did and then, at the merest hint of a chance to change it, she’d ran. She’d scrabbled and clawed to reach that faint light in the distance that spoke of survival. She just didn’t know anymore…

She couldn’t tell time. The cold and wind ate away at her and any thought she tried to conjure. The only thing that kept her moving forward was the hope that she would come across another clue as to the Inquisition’s whereabouts. Out here, there would be no one except the Inquisition or the enemy.

…If any of their forces still existed. She bet they did. Just to spite her, there were a bunch of them left. Horrifying, glowing, crystalline monstrosities.

Dark shapes dotted the obscured distance. The snow blew into her eyes but she was fairly certain those tall shapes were trees. They would offer some shelter against the wind, however small. Maybe she could find some better shelter, several trees standing together and creating a bare patch? A somewhat less snow-covered spot at least? She could sit down for just a moment…

Asala slapped herself. Or tried to. Her muscles were stiff from the cold, preventing a too hard hit. Or maybe it was just her cheeks that were too numb to feel it. She wasn’t sure but the one thing she knew was that she _could not_ allow herself to sink to the ground now. If she did, she was finished. She _had_ to keep going.

And then came at long last another sign. It was partially buried but it was an abandoned firepit. She could have cried but choked it back, not sure if the tears would freeze in her tear ducts or upon her cheeks. It was cold but it was still a sign. It was better than nothing. Someone had stopped here. She felt her heart thaw ever so slightly by the heat of unshed tears. It jumped and took a few extra beats. She could find them. She _would_ find them.

…She had to.

She pressed on. She had to stay focused, had to keep moving. Dripping water could eat through stone. She _had to_ persevere.

The hints were few and far between after that but they aided her, she allowed them to lead her and hoped it wasn’t to her death. Just another stiff corpse or skeleton for someone to find sooner or later…

In the end, the trees thinned out again and the ground began to tilt upwards. She pressed on. It was all she could do. Her vision shrank to what was right in front of her. At one point or another she thought she heard wolves howling but when she tried to focus on the sound, it was gone. She even thought she saw the bounding shapes or… shape in the distance at one point. If she was attacked out here, right now, she was dead. It made her move faster but not for long. She had no energy to keep it up. Later still she wondered if the Inquisition had really gotten away. Maybe she was following the trail of the red templars? Maybe she _was_ following the Inquisition and would find them all, frozen to death, in some valley or cave. Maybe it was all for naught. She was just so cold. Even the snow, when she lost her footing and took a tumble into a drift, felt warmer than her skin. She almost looked for something to stab herself with to get rid of the alluring thought of just lying down in that drift. It looked so soft and if it was warmer than her…

She forced herself to move on. Each step felt heavier than the last. Just… It would be so much easier to just give up, lie down and sleep. Just a little while.

And then she came upon another firepit. She stared at it. And stared. The glow was faint, so faint it felt weaker than her heartbeat, something she had stopped sensing a while ago. She couldn’t even feel the throb or hear the hum of her mark anymore despite how it glowed in her hand. It didn’t emit any heat, but then it never had. She wanted to drop to her knees and take a closer look at the embers but didn’t dare. She didn’t think… She _knew_ she wouldn’t get back up if she sank to the ground now. Using a nearby stone for support and balance, she leaned down on stiff legs and pushed some of the ash aside. The heat burnt her. She knew, logic told her it wasn’t hot enough to burn but she was just that cold. Even touching the snow seemed to burn her now. She would never get warm again. The cold had eaten her from outside in. It would soon reach her heart and then she would turn into one of those demons from the cave. Her clothes would rot away, turn into rags, her limbs would wither into that of a starved corpse… Just like them… So cold, so cold that even her breath and blood would turn to ice.

She pushed away from the firepit and barely moved enough to clear it and not stumble into it. She had to focus. Embers meant they were close. They had to be. She could… make it…

She stumbled.

There was nothing to catch herself on. The ground caught her. It was so soft and warm. Just a little further though. She crawled forward. There was an opening up ahead, steeper bits of mountain, bare of snow due to its sharp, vertical angle, shielded it on either side. It didn’t appear to continue after that. It had to mean it sloped downwards. A valley always offered natural shelter. They could be there, it was logical. The embers told her so. She considered crawling back, grasping one of the dying coals in each hand to warm them, the pain be damned. They would help her focus on something else than the cold. The glow hidden inside them was so pretty. She could see it in front of her.

Asala blinked against the snow. The wind had slowed at some point, the snow as well. The glow was still there though. She blinked again and stared before sinking back into a seated position. They were there. She felt her eyes tingle. Was she crying? Was she about to cry? Had her tear ducts frozen shut and she was trying to cry but unable?

She could see them, the lights and tents down in the valley before her. The Inquisition was there. They had made it. Her throat locked up, it felt clogged by… she didn’t know what. Her brain was too numb to dig up the appropriate word. She was so close now and…

…she couldn’t move.

However much she wanted, she _couldn’t_ move. She was so close!

She blinked at the scene below. If she keeled over, she might be able to roll down the hill. Yes, that could work. It might be the only way. She just… had to… lean forward a bit more. Just a bit… She _had_ to.

A sound penetrated her numb mind but she couldn’t identify it. It sounded familiar, both the sound and whatever it was saying.

…sala.

Asala.

That was… her name, wasn’t it?

“It is you!”

Something blotted out the light from the valley. She tried to look around it but couldn’t move. Something landed on her upper arms, it had a weird texture and was cool but warmer than her.

“She’s radiating cold! We must move quickly.” The sound… voice, yes, it was a voice, it was sharp, but with a hidden sweetness to it. Familiar.

“I’ll take her.” Something larger, warmer, almost burningly hot, touched her skin and began pulling her up. “None of you’ll be able to move fast enough while carrying her. No offence.” That voice was familiar, too. It was rough but had a warm note to it. Something smelled of home… Dragon’s blood. Asala closed her eyes as she was lifted close to a source of muted heat. She could see Par Vollen’s shores and fragrant flowers. She couldn’t smell them though. Maybe that was good? She couldn’t remember why it was good though. But warmth was good without reserves, she knew that much.

Darkness fell.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hisser-raas, qalab-asala basra vashedan. – Hopeless, stupid foreigner trash.
> 
> Despair demons, anyone?  
> You ever been so cold that even cold water or snow feels warm to you? I have. My hands are prone to getting cold. It's a disturbing sensation.
> 
> You know, as a Qunari, especially if you're a man, it'd take an age to get you down into the valley if Cullen and Cassandra were the only people dragging you along. So, yes, I added Iron Bull. Seemed logical. For those of you who've played as a reaver spec'ed warrior, you know that Iron Bull notes how you smell good. It's that blood thing. And as no human, elf or dwarf smell like a Qunari...


	26. Chapter 26

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Inquisition gets a new goal.  
> ...And Asala a well needed coat.

Consciousness came and went, along with snippets from all her senses flitting around like dragonflies in a staccato manner. It was mostly quiet in the beginning but as the healing magic she sensed at times receded, flashes of muted arguments began to take its place instead. The light didn’t change though. Asala opened her eyes at last and her vision came, blurry but in a steady stream. As it focused, she could see she was in a small tent. A tiny strip of light was shining in through the gap between the entrance flaps. It had either been done on purpose or this had been one of the tents they hadn’t yet put up in Haven because it had some kind of defect that needed mending. It didn’t matter though. She wasn’t cold. Well… not deadly cold anyway. There was a small but lingering chill, but that was all. Asala frowned and pushed herself upright laboriously.

A blanket as well as something else gathered at her waist. She held up the piece of what she was pretty sure was leather and studied it quizzically. It took a moment to realise what it was; a coat made of dragonling hide. Asala brushed the lightly textured surface that, when its originator was alive, had yet to harden properly as it did with the onset of maturity. When treated just right and immediately, not even an hour after its host’s death, the skin of any fire-breathing dragon and its offspring could retain some of its heat, not only ward it off. This was obviously one such piece because it was warm to the touch. Warmer than her at least. Or maybe that was just her mind that had yet to thaw properly.

Asala stared dumbly at the garment for a few heartbeats before finally pulling it on. Putting her boots back on, she closed the coat firmly and rolled down the upturned cuffs. Whosever this coat was, they must have been fairly tall. She guessed on a human man as elves rarely got stocky enough for anything of theirs to fit her, not to talk about dwarves.

Scooting over to the tent flaps, she pushed them aside, revealing an encampment as well as the source of the arguing. She hadn’t needed to see them to recognise their voices though; the war council.

“Shhh. You need rest.”

Asala turned her head to find Mother Giselle seated on a box just outside the tent. She frowned at the woman. Was she keeping guard or just keeping an eye upon Asala in case she suddenly took a turn for the worse?

“How long has this been going on? How long have _I_ been out of it?” The sky still looked dark and last she could remember… It had still been dark, right?

“They have been discussing how to proceed ever since your condition proved stable,” the cleric replied and Asala felt she was being generous with her choice of words. That wasn’t discussing in her book. “You were brought in some time before the moon reached midpoint in the sky.”

Asala glance up. The moon had travelled five sixths of its trajectory. Her mind wasn’t completely at its best yet but she threw out a guess anyway. “Three hours or some such?”

Mother Giselle inclined her head at the speculation. It was as good a guess as any and they had no way of telling. “Very likely. They have that luxury, thanks to you.” Asala grabbed the blanket off the got she’d woken up in and dropped it in a sloppy pile in the tent’s doorway before dropping herself on it. She was still tired and her legs threatened her with not playing along if she was just going to stand there hunched in the doorway. “The enemy could not follow, and with time to doubt, we turn to blame,” the woman continued. Her expression grew faintly anxious as she cast her gaze out over the encampment and the war council that had, at long last, broken up and descended into a somewhat despondent silence. “Infighting may threaten as much as this Corypheus.

Asala massaged her forehead. “Do we know where Corypheus and his forces are?”

Mother Giselle shook her head. “We’re not sure where _we_ are. Which may be why, despite the numbers he still commands, there is no sign of him.” She gave Asala a small smile. “That, or you are believed dead. Or without Haven, we are thought hopeless.” Asala could certainly see the merit in that assumption from where she was sitting. “Or he girds for another attack,” the cleric finished. Of all the options, that was the worst. They _would_ die if he attacked out here within the next few days if not more. They had no idea where they were, as the Mother said, a limited amount of resources and very little shelter even against clam weather. If a blizzard rolled in, they would be in a bad position.

“I cannot claim to know the mind of that creature, only his effect on us.”

Asala let out a sigh and considered scooting over so she could lean on one of the tent’s support pillars. She decided it was too much of an effort. Besides, with the way things were going, sitting still or falling back to sleep again didn’t seem like an option. “The only thing yelling gets us is a headache. Another headache,” she added after a second’s deliberation. She couldn’t be the only one in pain.

Mother Giselle returned her gaze to Asala and shook her head. “They know, but another heated voice won’t help. Even yours.” She seemed to consider it a moment and then made an addendum. “Perhaps especially yours.” Asala frowned at her and the woman explained. “The situation is… complicated. There are many questions right now and few answers, especially where you are concerned.”

“What about me?” Asala asked warily. The cleric gave her a small smile, as if trying to tell her not to worry by expression alone. Asala frowned unhappily at her.

“Our leaders struggle because of what we survivors witnessed. We saw our defender stand… and fall. And now, we have seen her _return_.” The last word held meaning, a meaning Asala grimaced at. Not more religion and faith. It hadn’t helped them before and certainly wouldn’t help them now. Especially when they got to hear about what Corypheus said in Haven. Asala briefly considered not telling the whole truth then grimaced. She had enough stuff to keep secret as it was. Keeping the enemy’s words was likely only going to cause a big headache. Besides, there might be something in his words that they could use in some way to find a weakness or something. Some _logical_ way. Mother Giselle had been studying her but now continued talking.

“The more the enemy is beyond us, the more miraculous your actions appear. And the more our trials seem ordained. That is hard to accept, no?” Asala refrained from snorting at the woman’s words. She was trying to be kind and offer comfort. It just wasn’t comfort Asala could understand or decipher enough to _find_ comfort in. “What “we” have been called to endure? What “we”, perhaps, must come to believe?” Asala certainly knew what Corypheus’s words and everything up until now _didn’t_ do; they didn’t make her turn to the South’s Chant of Light. Some events and her own actions had made her question some other things, yes, but she wasn’t about to face-turn-heel right into their beliefs. There was no point in arguing about this though. Asala slowly pushed herself off the ground.

“Corypheus claimed to have been one of those magisters who visited the Golden City. He also claimed it was empty.” She could feel Mother Giselle staring at her but the woman didn’t interrupt her. Maybe she didn’t want to, or maybe she had momentarily lost her voice. “In the end, all this means is that this happened _because_ of fanatics, faith and arguments about the next world.” _Pointless ones,_ she added mentally. “Hope and faith won’t help us out here. They won’t keep us safe, especially if the enemy is still out there and even more so if they’re searching for us. Questions regarding faith and truth are discussed and contemplated upon when you aren’t in danger of your life.” She was sure any ashkaari would agree with her on that no matter where she stood with the Qun.

Leaving the Mother to contemplate what she’d just said, especially about Corypheus, Asala moved towards where the war council were seated or standing. They weren’t engaging each other at the moment. True, if they had been arguing for hours nonstop, they were taking a break while still being within earshot of each other. Asala didn’t get very far before she had to stop and lean against the support pole of a shelter. It was a poor time for her to be needing rest or feeling dizzy. Searching her reserves, she found enough power to settle her stumbling balance and swirling head. She sincerely hoped she hadn’t gone and gotten some severe cold or something out there in the snow. She was lucky she hadn’t gotten frostbitten to the point of amputation. A dead limb was a dead limb, no matter the amount of healing magic one possessed.

She pushed away from the pillar. The world stayed the same. At least that was something. Asala sighed. She really wanted to go back to sleep but… They couldn’t rest now, no matter what they needed. The Inquisition needed them more.

“Shadows fall and hope has fled.”

Asala blinked and turned back around to stare confusedly at the Chantry Mother who was slowly moving in her direction. She was… singing?

“Steel your heart, the dawn will come.” The cleric raised her head and cast a small but gentle smile at Asala as she continued over to a nearby fire. Not too far away, the members of the war council had raised their heads and were also watching the woman. There were relieved smiles cast as Asala, too, as they noticed she was up and about again. As Mother Giselle came to a halt a few steps away from Asala, her words slowly faded as the verse ended. Asala opened her mouth to ask the question of “why” but before she could, someone else took up the song.

“The shepherd’s lost and his home is far.” Asala turned her surprised gaze to the spymaster as Mother Giselle joined her. Somewhere else in the camp another voice joined in and then another. People began drawing nearer to the fire and the song, more and more of them joining in the slowly but steadily growing choir. Asala let her confused frown smoothen out as she settled for listening for now.

Mother Giselle hadn’t been wrong about one thing; the Inquisition’s people weren’t in a good place mentally. They were confused, scared and cold. If this could help them, then Asala wasn’t the one to argue. As more and more people drew near however, an uncomfortable tension began to form in her upper back. She refrained from rolling her shoulders in an attempt to dispel it. She almost did it anyway when the people around her began to drop to their knees. Damn it. This was because of that faith and Herald crap, wasn’t it?

She knew it gave them comfort but… still. The need of the people and the need to argue for logic and sense warred within her as the song rose around the camp. It was a nice song, the lyrics meaningful and fitting for the situation… In the end, Asala kept her peace and gave the people what they needed. They wanted someone to tell them it would be all right. She had survived going up face to face with their chief adversary and a _dragon_. As far as they were concerned, she was the person to tell them it would all be fine. They would believe her words. She had already accepted this duty. It was a recent development, yes, but she had accepted it. Now, all she had to do was to get used to it. _And fast_ , she added uncomfortably. If she didn’t, she wouldn’t be able to deliver and since she had accepted the position… by the prophet, she would damn well deliver. She just needed to figure out how, and preferably sooner than later.

As the song faded, a faint chatter rose as people began to talk. The atmosphere had changed though. It felt a bit lighter.

“An army needs more than an enemy.” Asala turned her head to the woman beside her. Mother Giselle lifted her gaze to meet Asala’s. “It needs a cause,” she finished before leaving. Asala watched her go. Did they not have a cause already? Yes, the Breach was now closed and Cassandra had already mentioned they needed to redirect their focus to not lose people’s attention. There was still a lot to do. They had been meaning to get to that the next morning, a morning that was going to dawn in an hour or two.

Asala heard the crunch of snow and gravel behind her. “A word?” She turned as Solas passed her without stopping. She assumed this wouldn’t take long. She could speak to the war council after.

Moving away from the outer perimeter of the camp, Solas led them to what looked like an unlit metal cresset but as far as Asala could tell, there was no fuel or wick of any kind in it. With a motion of his hand, a blue flame burst to life in the basket. Asala unconsciously hugged herself as she drew closer. Upon realising what she was doing, and that the flame wasn’t cold, she dropped her arms again. Solas regarded the leaping flames as he spoke, his voice filling the silence since the murmur from the camp didn’t reach out here.

“A wise woman, worth heeding.”

“The part about what we need or the part about faith?” Asala interrupted with a frown. The corners of Solas’s mouth twisted upwards.

“The former,” he replied before meeting her gaze. “Her kind understands the moments that unify a cause. Or fracture it. The orb Corypheus carried, the power he used against you; it is elven.” He didn’t even blink. Asala’s brows climbed a bit though.

“How do you know?” He couldn’t have been close enough to see it.

“The power it released echoed across the landscape. I have seen similar things before, in the Fade, felt the tremors their powers released recoded in memories. They were foci, used to channel ancient magic. The echoes left in the Temple of Sacred Ashes were too faint to tell me anything on their own but it is obvious now; Corypheus used the orb to open the Breach. However, unlocking it must have caused the explosion that destroyed the Conclave.”

Asala shook her head. “If that’s how it reacts, why would anyone ever use it?”

Solas gave the question a shrug and a lopsided smile. “My assumption, and I feel fairly certain, is that it had lain unused for millennia before our enemy got hold of it. As I have understood it, the foci continue to store magic over the years. It is as naturally and automatic to it as breathing is to you and I. Lying unused for so long…” he shook his head sadly, “there must have been more power within it than was safe. Opening the conduit to release the power was like opening a floodgate.” The man frowned unhappily. “I do not yet know how Corypheus survived… nor am I certain how people will react when they learn of the orb’s origin.”

Asala rubbed at her face with one hand, staring at the fire. She had understood that elves weren’t always… seen in the best of light in the South. Some stupid piece of religion, history or other such reason being the cause. She heaved a sigh. “I can see why you’re worried,” she agreed and turned fully towards him. “But in that case, anything you can give us on the matter should help us point to that it isn’t the elves’ fault. It’s not an elf using the orb, it’s a _human_ , and from Tevinter at that. If they can’t see where the actual problem lies…” she trailed off quickly and gave a grunt of annoyance. She couldn’t just go around and beat people over the head for being stupid and short-sighted, could she? “We just need to point to the obvious facts and hope the rest of the world has some sense left in it.” Solas gave a low chuckle at that.

“Yes, one can hope. And beyond any information about the orb that I may be able to give, there is something else.” Asala frowned at him but didn’t have to voice her question as Solas raised an arm and pointed at the horizon. “By attacking the Inquisition, Corypheus has changed it. Its needs and direction are now different. But his actions have also changed _you._ ” She nodded. He didn’t need her telling him how. Somehow, he knew something had changed but Asala wasn’t sure if he realised how much her time with the Inquisition, or Corypheus, had changed her. His perceptiveness had been one of the reasons he had proven to be a good tutor but it also meant she felt the need to be extra careful around him lest he figure something out she didn’t want known.

“When tomorrow comes, take us out of this valley. Scout to the north.”

Asala frowned at the horizon he was pointing at even as he lowered his arm. “Why north?” Wasn’t there only mountains in that direction? As far as she had seen on the maps, that was it.

Beside her, Solas smiled. “There is a place that awaits a force to hold it. I have seen it in my dreams while at Haven, though it lay at the edge of my vision. While I couldn’t get a clear visual of it, it holds the whispers of promise. The Inquisition can grow there and it _will_ protect us.”

“You’re certain?” She wanted to believe him without further question but she couldn’t just go running off, alone or with what remained of the Inquisition in tow, right into uncharted mountain terrain.

Solas smiled wider at her. “I am positive.”

Asala nodded. “All right. I guess I need to go speak to the war council about this and when we can head out.”

“I would suggest you take at least another few hours of rest,” the elf recommended and Asala gave a nod before she began to head back into camp. Solas had said he was positive… It was worth a chance, wasn’t it?

It didn’t take too long to give a full report to the war council about what had happened after she sent her companions into retreat and the aftermath. No one was scorning Solas’s suggestion and it was the only one they had so far. The decision was made. As she turned to leave, Cassandra stopped her, a hand upon her arm.

“I’m glad we found you when we did.” The belief that they would have been a lot more lost without her, and not geographically speaking, went unspoken but it didn’t need voicing. Asala gave her a smile.

“I’m glad, too.”

A moment passed, the woman’s hand still on Asala’s arm, but then something changed in Cassandra’s eyes. “You should not have been in that situation though. This coat… I want you to have it. It will keep you safe. As well as prevent any similar situation,” she added the last part a bit dryly. Asala held back her laughter but not the smile.

“It’s yours?”

A moment of silence followed before Cassandra shook her head. “It was my brother’s.”

Asala blinked, stunned. They had spoken about the man but it had taken time. Finally she nodded. “Thank you. I’ll treasure it.” It spoke volumes that, as everyone grabbed what essentials they could, Cassandra would forego anything of the like to grab a single coat with a huge personal sentiment. And now she was giving it away. The woman gave her a crisp nod. Asala watched her go before she dragged herself back towards the tent she had woken up in. She was going to try and grab at least two more hours of sleep, or however long she was now allowed.

“It’s good to see you’re still alive and kicking, boss.”

Asala came to a halt at the sudden voice and turned to find Iron Bull a few steps away. She was almost at her tent. She gave him a weak smile. “I think it was a close call in the end.” The other Qunari nodded.

“Yeah, you were an hour away from being an icicle,” he agreed. She assumed he meant she would have been dead if they hadn’t found her within the hour. From what she could remember, she had been about to tip over or something. “I’ve never felt anyone be as cold as you and still have a pulse, so, good on you for being hardy.”

Asala frowned at that. She had… heard his voice, hadn’t she? “You… were with the team that found me, weren’t you?” she asked uncertainly. The man nodded.

“Yeah. Carried you back as it was fastest that way. Also warmed you up.”

Asala’s frown deepened. “What do you mean?”

“You’ve never run into that problem before?” he asked her good-naturedly. “Best way to warm someone up, when they’re as chilled as that and you don’t have hot water handy, is body heat.” Asala slowly froze. She was beginning to get a picture… “You’ve got a fair bit of muscle for someone flinging around a staff. It isn’t close to anyone using blades or even a bow, but good on you.” He nodded cheerily at her. Asala had raised the hand closest to him to massage a temple but was also, surreptitiously, using it to cover her face as much as possible. Yes, right, good on her… Ha ha… ha… She wasn’t sure what she was feeling right now but the less she showed her face, the better.

“Thank you… I’m… going to get some more sleep now. We’re heading out soon.”

“Sounds good, boss.”

Yes, sleep sounded fantastic. Especially if she could do it for the next few years and miss just about _everything_. Also, it meant she didn’t have to show her face again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ashakaari – “One who seeks”, or “one who thinks”; scientists, philosophers, or those who have found enlightenment
> 
> Ever since the DLC Spoils of the Qunari came out, I try to use the Qunari armour for my Qun quizzies when I play. I like the immersion. However, I crafted a very much stronger piece made of dragonling scales/hide and ended up using it. I guess this was as good a way as any to incorporate it, give it some meaning and let it symbolise Asala's move from unwilling Herald and still very staunch supporter of the Qun into an Inquisitor who takes a lot of ques from her previous life but applies it on a "what the Inquisition needs" basis.
> 
> After having played through Trespasser, did anyone else ever think about how the wolves howling during your escape from Haven may have had something to do with Solas? I know it's unlikely as he's more on the magical side but, hmm... It'd be an interesting touch to think that if you'd strayed too far in the wrong direction, the wolves may have been used to keep you on the right track, so to speak.


	27. Chapter 27

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Inquisition is reborn in Skyhold and this time WITH an Inquisitor. A forgotten boy is also remembered.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally. I had a bit of a block for a few days there.
> 
> Also; ward, bailey, courtyard, it's all the same in this case. If we got picky, I believe the courtyard/bailey of Skyhold is in two tiers (rather than being separate) while that which we call the gardens is actually the inner bailey. There are stairs up to the second tier of the outer bailey and it does have a wall, giving it choke points, so I'm not sure if Skyhold should be considerd to have two or three baileys/courtyards. Dragon Age wiki notes Skyhold having a garden, Upper and Lower courtyard so, officially, I guess the matter is settled. However, based on what I know of medieval castle architecture... I don't know. It's a fine line. I decided to leave the garden as is though.  
> (Yes, I'm a medieval architecture enthusiast, among other things.)

It took all of four days to scale the terrain but they found the place Solas had hinted it. He called it Skyhold. To say that it was magnificent was an understatement, even if it was in desperate need of repairs. The castle’s state was visible even before they went through the main gate but few seemed to care. Their leaders had brought them to a safe location that had the walls to protect them. The people were content.

It took a few days to settle in and get things sorted, get messenger birds off to inform contacts about where they were and what supplies were needed. Their first surprise came with the first shipment of tools and food; a few dozen recruits. They had been meaning to join but Corypheus had beaten them to Haven. Now they were here and with even more reason to fight. News seemed to spread quickly after that and with enough tools and manual labour to see to the repairs of their new base of operation, the war council could, at long last, turn their attention back onto the real problem.

Asala had just finished her lunch and exited the temporary mess hall along with Blackwall when she spotted the war council across the lower bailey. Cassandra noticed her first and waved her over as the others went on ahead. Asala said a quick goodbye to Blackwall before moving up to the seeker. Once close enough, Cassandra gave a nod to their surroundings; it was practically buzzing with activity. It had been buzzing almost since day one but as the days passed, it got more and more crowded.

“They arrive daily from every settlement in the region,” Cassandra said with a note of pride. “Skyhold is becoming a pilgrimage.”

 _Haven and the Temple had been a pilgrimage, too,_ Asala thought but didn’t say. The big difference had been that Haven’s location had been known for nearly a decade by the time the Inquisition moved in and it hadn’t been fortified. This place was the right opposite in every aspect. A moment later, Cassandra indicated the stairs up to the upper bailey and they began to move.

“Do we have our next move?”

“We do,” Cassandra replied with a nod. She sounded very sure of it. That was nice. The need to repair and settle in was obvious but Asala felt they had spent more than enough time on it. They needed to get started on the bigger issues. “Truth,” Cassandra continued as the mounted the steps, “if word has reached these people, it will have reached the Elder One.”

“That’s what I’m afraid of,” Asala muttered, causing Cassandra to crack a smile. If Asala wasn’t wrong, the word “pessimist” echoed in that smile but never made it past the woman’s lips.

“We have the walls and numbers to put up a fight here, but this threat is far beyond the war we anticipated. However, we now know what allowed you to stand against Corypheus, what drew him to you.” They stopped at the top of the stairs. Asala raised a dubious brow at her companion. Did they really know for certain?

“I _assume_ it was because of the mark,” _or anchor as he called it,_ she added mentally as she held up her hand. “But since he couldn’t remove it, he’s gone grouchy and wants me dead instead.” It was as close to the truth as they could get and the most they knew of the situation. Cassandra tried for stern but her lips were twitching at one corner.

“That is one way to put it, yes,” Cassandra agreed and began moving again. Asala followed. “However, it isn’t the whole picture. The anchor has power, that is not in question, nor is his ire at not being able to remove it, but it isn’t the reason you’re still standing here.”

“You believe so?” Asala inquired with raised brows. “Next time I see him, I’ll go up and politely inquire, then we can settle this,” she said with a smile. A disgusted grunt was her initial reply.

“You’ve spent far too much time with Varric during these last few days.”

“Perish the thought,” Asala mumbled without ire even though she rolled her eyes swiftly. Cassandra heaved a sigh and tried to get the conversation back on track. Asala had yet to see what track it was supposed to be on in the first place.

“Your decisions let us heal the sky. Your determination brought us out of Haven.” The rounded the stairs leading up into the keep and began to ascend these as well. “You are that creature’s rival because of what _you_ did, and we know it. We all do.” Asala could argue that it hadn’t started out like that but didn’t think it would lead them anywhere but back here again so she simply shrugged. Cassandra cast an eye over her shoulder and gave a quick smile at the action before continuing. “The Inquisition required a leader; the one who has _already_ been leading it.”

Asala frowned. She was beginning to see where this was going. She had already decided, made the commitment, but to hear it possibly being official? It was a bit daunting. As they reached the wide halfway point on the stairs, they stopped. Leliana was waiting there with a sword resting on her hands. It was large; partly ornamental but possessed a wicked looking blade. Movement in her peripheral vision caused Asala to glance down at the lower bailey. It appeared as though most, if actually not everyone, had gathered there. Everyone who had travelled with her as well as Cullen and Josephine was there, too.

“You.”

Asala turned back around at that one word to regard Cassandra. This was it then? Before Redcliffe, she would have backed away if this came up, would have told Cassandra to pick up the blade herself. Ill-suited and ill-prepared was the reasons she would have given. Before Haven was attacked, she would have hesitated. Now… it just felt like she was coming full circle in some way. Haven had been destroyed, just like the Conclave. She had travelled through a blizzard and nearly died, just as she had travelled alone through the Land of the Dead even though she couldn’t remember any of it. And now they stood here. In Haven, Cassandra had declared the Inquisition reborn. Here, at Skyhold, they were declaring the Inquisitor instead, someone they should already have had from the start. It was as though they were starting over, and doing it right this time. It _was_ sort of coming full circle, wasn’t it?

Inhaling slowly, Asala turned back to face Cassandra. “I’m honoured and will accept the duty but… I would ask why?” She really needed to hear the why. What was Cassandra’s reasoning? True, she had already heard some of it on the way up but that couldn’t be all.

“I will not lie; handing this much power to anyone is troubling. But I have to believe this is meant to be. And I _know_ , as we all do, that without you, there would be no Inquisition.” The answer was delivered without pause and with the calm surety one only acquired after careful consideration.

“And you don’t think anyone elsewhere would disagree?” Asala asked with raised brows. She kept her voice somewhat lowered. The people below didn’t need to hear doubts at a time like this. Cassandra gave a short shake of her head.

“Some might say it shouldn’t be because you are a Qunari, but you are not your people. You are an individual. Perhaps that is part of your strength.” Not too long ago, Asala would have argued that point but after Haven in particular… she wasn’t sure what she was. Except for someone who tried her damnedest to stay sane and logical. She would always listen to and find wisdom in the Qun. She would just… have to apply it in whatever way best suited the Inquisition. “Others might claim you unsuitable due to your magic, but I have yet to see it misused,” Cassandra continued with another shake of her head. “If anything, you have utilised it responsibly and for our cause when others have shown less restraint. The people wouldn't follow if they didn't trust you, yet they though. As do we.” The seeker took a step to the side and Leliana moved closer, raising the sword towards Asala. It looked heavy. She wondered idly if she would manage it gracefully. Probably more gracefully than if she’d been an elf with spindly arms… “As for the future, and how you lead us, that is entirely up to you.”

Reaching out, Asala picked up the sword. It was heavy but she’d manage for a while. She wouldn’t go swinging it on the field of battle anytime soon though. Turning to face the crowd gathered below, she surveyed the numerous faces looking back up at her. She didn’t have trouble speaking to crowds, but, she had to confess, speaking to a large group of children and a crowd of adults was somewhat different. Many principles, however, were the same. Taking a deep breath and letting it out, she raised her voice so it may be heard loud and clear.

“I will fight for order, not faith. For while faith and hope may be strong and inspire, they have also led astray and to differences that harm the world we all live in. Our concern, our _mutual_ concern, must be the safety and order of this world, not just yours or mine or the next. I will stand for you all and I will lead us to victory.” She almost added on “or die trying” but changed her mind at the last moment. It didn’t sound very positive but rather as though she doubted her ability to do what she had just proclaimed. When trying to convince others of your cause or when inspiring them, you couldn’t sound like you doubted yourself. Just like you had to sound like you believed your own words to have children believe you. After all, when had “do as I say, not as I do” ever truly worked with children?

She would have liked to say she wasn’t chosen, but if that, too, gave the people some extra sense of peace, of hope and strength… who was she to deny them that? She had already stated her opinion regarding the origin of her title as the Herald of Andraste. If she was lucky, they would stop using it altogether in favour for her new one; Inquisitor. Cassandra had said the Inquisition was what it was due to her decisions. Asala couldn’t say she had made decisions, she hadn’t chosen or been chosen by the South’s prophet. She had simply done the only thing that was right, but if they saw that as choosing… then that was how _they_ saw it. As long as it didn’t harm her directly, she could live with agreeing to disagree on the matter.

Behind her, Cassandra nodded. “Wherever you lead us,” she declared before stepping up beside her. “Have our people been told?” she called down.

“They have,” Josephine answered with a strong voice. “And soon the world.”

“Commander, will they follow?”

Cullen’s eyes took on the sharp edge of a soldier who had been issued a command. He stepped out of the crowd and turned to face them. “Inquisition! Will you follow?” he demanded.

An affirmative roar arose from the gathered people.

“Will you fight?”

Another, stronger, roar answered the commander.

“Will we triumph?”

Another roar. Asala had to give it to the man; he was good. He drew his sword as he turned in one smooth motion, backdropped by cheering people. “Your leader! Your Herald! Your _Inquisitor_!”

Asala felt like shaking her head but refrained, lifting the sword above her head instead. A greater wave of a cheer arose from the crowd below at the action. Asala sure felt like she was in the midst of telling her charges a story and they were getting really excited. A smile forced itself onto her lips. It was amusing how her life and twisted and turned to have her end up here of all places.

Not long after the announcement, the war council had withdrawn to the main hall of the castle. It was still a mess as it hadn’t been a priority but it soon would be. One noticeable difference to the usual war council meeting was that Cassandra wasn’t present. Asala knew there was a lot to get done all over Skyhold but it said a lot that the seeker felt she could just leave everything to Asala immediately.

Just behind her, Cullen released a sigh at the state of the hall. “So this is where it begins.”

“It began in the courtyard,” Leliana corrected him without censure. “This is where we turn that promise into action.”

“But what do we do?” Asala partly zoned them out as she took in the chamber; the holes in the roof, the broken wood, mortar and rocks littering the floor, dust and spider webs. At least the great set of stained-glass windows at the back of the hall was intact. She was actually amazed at that. It felt like they should have been one of the first things to go. At the mention of her mark, Asala glanced down at her hand. No, they didn’t know anything about Corypheus. That was a problem. Actually, scratch that. They did know at least _one_ thing beyond his desire for the anchor.

“Corypheus wants to restore Tevinter,” she said as she turned around to face her advisors. _Her_ advisors… That was something she would have to get used to. Grasping her marked hand in the other, she rubbed her thumb over the anchor and its dull, green glow that never seemed to sleep. “Is this a prelude to war with the Imperium?” The question was a valid one and she wasn’t the only one to frown. Cullen was the first to speak.

“I get the feeling we’re dealing with extremists, not the vanguard of a true invasion,” he replied with a shake of his head.

“Do we have any contacts that could confirm or disprove this?” Asala asked and cast her eyes first at Leliana and then Josephine. Both shook their head. Dorian was the only Tevinter they had any relations with and he was here. They could ask him if he knew anyone who might be able to answer that question but unless it was common knowledge, it was unlikely they would get anything good out of it.

“I believe there is strong support for the Commander’s assumption,” Josephine noted but she was still frowning gently. “Tevinter is not the Imperium of a thousand years ago. What Corypheus yearns to “restore” no longer exists,” she explained with a shrug before making a cautioning addendum. “Though they would shed no tears if the South fell to chaos, I’m certain.”

That was most definitely true, Asala agreed. North or south, Tevinter would be happy if chaos descended upon its neighbours. There was one other matter worth considering though… “What about that dragon?” She had seen detailed sketches of dragons in her time and though they were the ones up around Par Vollen, Seheron or the northernmost mainland, none of them had looked so… _unwell_ as the one she met up close in Haven. She had never seen a darkspawn, nor any good sketches, as the blighted things were burned quickly if ever encountered as the plague-carriers they were. “Spymaster, you participated in the fight against the darkspawn ten years ago. Could it be an archdemon?” She would seek Blackwall’s opinion on the matter later, too.

Leliana frowned. “I cannot say for sure… Unlike the wardens, I can’t sense the Blight upon a creature. I have inquired with Blackwall but he was vague, said he couldn’t get a good feel of the beast in all that chaos.” She heaved a frustrated sigh. “For all we know, it could be, and that would mean the beginning of another Blight. We’re barely a decade free of such horror. We don’t need another one and definitely not on top of all we already have. It could explain why most of the wardens have disappeared, of course. I know the Hero of Ferelden isn’t with them. Last I heard he was travelling west but he hadn’t heard anything specific from the heads of the order. I haven’t heard from him in a while though. It could be the rest of the order discovered something but he was unable to leave his current mission, leaving them to go fight this at the source of the corruption…” Leliana shook her head. Either her own speculations weren’t good enough or they lead to an answer she was uncomfortable sharing until proven. “The Fifth Blight may not be a perfect example for we had few allies and were locked in by enemies, preventing messages from being sent to get more aid in. However, mighty as the Grey Wardens are, they never fight a Blight alone. They rally others to aid them, yes, and they are the only ones to safely slay an archdemon, but they don’t go at it alone. No one could take on a Blight alone.” The lack of information was so aggravating to her she either refrained from wasting energy on hiding her emotion or simply couldn’t.

“We must remember, however; we’ve seen no darkspawn other than Corypheus himself,” Josephine cautioned. If true, it would alleviate their workload but until they knew, they had to prepare for the worst. “Perhaps it’s not an archdemon at all, but something different?” the ambassador suggested.

“That would be nice,” Cullen grumbled then shook his head and spoke up. “Whatever it is, it’s dangerous. Commanding such a creature gives Corypheus an advantage we can’t ignore.” He had reverted to practicalities, one of the reasons he was in charge of the troops and Asala appreciated him so much.

“We know what Corypheus is most likely to set his sight on next,” _assassinating the empress of Orlais and summoning a demon army_ , she dismally reminded herself, “but we can’t keep just running after him, stopping his plans before they come to fruition. We’ll fail sooner or later.” It wasn’t nice to hear but it had to be said. If no one did, it might feel less real and not as big a threat. The advisors nodded, expressions ranging from grave to determined. “We need more information on this being and we need it fast.” Leliana inclined her head without being called upon. She knew the first, and maybe most important, move lay in her hands. Asala didn’t envy her.

“Unless they saw him on the field, most would not even believe he exists,” Cullen voiced what they all had been thinking. Asala frowned angrily. And how many would believe if told, was the question. As sad as it seemed, she feared the answer was “very few”. For all their vaunted belief and demand that the Chant of Light be sung from all corners of the land, few would be willing to immediately believe in their faith’s horrors as a reality. And this despite the existence of darkspawn! They demanded space for they illogical views but were hard pressed to believe when faced with anything bad. Stupid—

“I know someone who can help with that.”

They all started and turned towards the entrance of the great hall. Varric was sauntering in but upon gaining everyone’s attention, he cleared his throat subtly. “Everyone acting all inspirational jogged my memory, so I sent a message to an old friend,” he expounded vaguely and making Asala frown gently. You didn’t need to be a spymaster or a member of the Ben-Hassrath to know there was something more to it than that. No one threw out an accusation though so the dwarf continued. “She has crossed paths with paths with Corypheus before, and may know more about what he’s doing. She can help.”

Right now, Asala was almost willing to invite the whole Ben-Hassrath if they had something solid for them. _Almost_ being the key word. Never mind that she already had a known Ben-Hassrath agent by her side. It was one thing having one and knowing to watch yourself around him and another entirely to have the whole organisation present. Alone, Iron Bull couldn’t discuss any thoughts or suspicions he might have that could lead to the truth coming out. Asala had begun to doubt anyone would come after her considering she was the only one who could close rifts. While the Breach was now sealed, they didn’t know how many rifts still remained in the world yet. She was not disposable yet, no matter how dangerous she may be viewed by the Qun and they were certainly to view her in a worse light than the Chantry. She had never doubted that.

Asala studied Varric for a short moment. “Who is this friend of yours? I assume you trust them.” If she had met or dealt with Corypheus before… Unless Varric knew this person _very_ well, it could just as well be that he had just invited in an agent of the enemy. It wasn’t a nice thought but it had to be considered. A lot had happened over the last two months and if Varric hadn’t been in touch with this person before then, or even longer, they could have changed their mind about the monster.

“I would trust her with my life,” he told her sincerely but then cast his eyes back at the doorway. “But, erh, she isn’t one for crowds. She doesn’t want to cause a fuss and… it’s complicated. She’ll be arriving tomorrow but requested a meeting in private, if you don’t mind.” Asala frowned. In the end, there wasn’t much for it though, was there? She could protect herself if it came down to that.

“All right.” She nodded. “You’ll come find me when she arrives?”

“Without delay,” Varric replied with a nod and a small but relieved smile before taking his leave. Silence descended upon the room until Josephine made an uncertain noise.

“Well then… we stand ready to move on both these concerns.” She sounded almost as if she wished to make it a question but refrained. Asala nodded absently. Hopefully they _did_ stand ready to move on those two _major_ concerns. The Antivan had a skill for making something sound less daunting and more surmountable than it honestly was.

“So…” she regained the attention of her advisors, “what’s the next issue at hand?”

“The next issue, darling, is one that has been put aside for long enough.” They all turned, for a second time in less minutes, towards the entrance to see the Court Enchanter striding in. She didn’t look happy. Solas was following a few steps behind, regarding the tall woman reproachfully. “It’s a hazard to everyone present.”

Solas released a suffering sigh. “I have told you before, First Enchanter, he is not a threat.”

Vivienne didn’t even deign to look at the man, much less answer the comment. Asala cast her eyes at her advisors and when no one said anything, she gave them a nod and walked to meet the two mages. “What exactly is the problem?” she asked as Vivienne began leading the way back outside.

“That… _thing_ we picked up in Haven, my dear.” She managed to sound both disgusted and worried at the same time. Solas’s expression didn’t improve though and Vivienne frowned at the man. It was clear they were not in agreement, to put it lightly. “It’s not a stray puppy you can make into a pet,” the human argued with a sharp gesture of a hand as they descended the stairs to the upper bailey. “It has no business being here.” Asala thought she was beginning to understand whom they were referring to; the odd boy… young man who had arrived with the Chargers and the templar stragglers. He appeared physically close in age to Sera but mentally… he came off as younger than her. And he seemed so fleet of foot you could hardly notice him coming and going at times. There was also something poking at the back of her mind but she couldn’t put her finger on it.

Cassandra was standing by the second set of stairs leading down to the outer bailey. She was watching the bottom of the staircase like a hawk.

“Wouldn’t you then perhaps say the same of an apostate?” Solas challenged as they reached the warrior, revealing that the woman was indeed watching the odd boy. He was seated at the base of the stairs, off to the side. Asala couldn’t tell what he was doing other than simply sitting there, observing the people coming and going. She frowned before turning to face the two mages she relied heavily on to further her understanding and control over her own powers. Depending on what this was about exactly, this might prove a difficult decision, she feared.

“As—Inquisitor, I wondered if Cole was perhaps a mage, given his unusual abilities,” Cassandra spoke and while she turned her head towards Asala, she still kept half her attention at the boy. She was being really paranoid. She had taken to calling Asala more by her given name during the journey to Skyhold, but only in private. This, Asala assumed, she apparently viewed as a more official matter, thus choosing to use the Qunari’s new title. At least Asala hoped that was it. Thinking back to the beginning of all this, it was odd how Cassandra and she had gotten so close. It was nice though.

“He can cause people to forget him, or even fail entirely to notice him,” Solas said with a light shake of his head. His next words were delivered with great assurance. “These are not the abilities of a mage. It seems that Cole is a spirit.” Asala’s brows climbed high at that.

“Pardon?”

“It is a demon,” Vivienne countered before Solas had the chance to say anything. The man levelled the other mage with an annoyed glance before wiping the expression off his face, leaving a neutral calm behind.

“If you prefer, although the truth is somewhat more complex.”

This _was_ turning out to be a complicated matter. She didn’t want, couldn’t afford, really, to have a being that was even remotely likely to be a demon around. However, she had never known Solas to stand up for something that would intentionally wish or cause the Inquisition harm. She trusted and respected both Solas and Vivienne, valued both persons’ opinion on any magical matter. To suddenly have to pick one over the other was… troubling.

“Solas, what do you mean by complex?” He had said that a spirit could transform into a demon if forced or pulled away from its original purpose. Most spirits that had come through the veil had been harmed or twisted by it, the elf had said. Only those spirits that were already of a harmful nature would try to push through actively as they already hungered impossibly much for this world.

The man turned his attention onto her, a tiny change in his face telling her he appreciated her asking the question. He always did seem to appreciate people seeking further knowledge instead of just jumping at a matter “like children” as he had once described it. She had understood what he meant, had agreed even. The reason one should always seek a tutor or master of an art or subject was because they had either already made all the mistakes or been taught how to avoid them, too. There was no point wasting time and energy on something that could be avoided by simply asking the right person questions.

“Demons normally enter this world by possessing something. In their true form, they look bizarre, monstrous.” He wasn’t looking at only her when he said this. Despite it being her that asked the question, Asala assumed he felt confident enough with her listening to his words with less prejudice than the other two. He knew she didn’t like demons and was either scared or wary of spirits, but after having been instructing her himself, he trusted her to trust _him_.

“But you claim Cole looks like a young man,” Cassandra interrupted with a frown. “Is it possession?”

It would appear this discussion had been ongoing for a while before they went and found her. The elf had told her once that if a mage concentrated on a person they feared to be possessed, they would be able to tell if there was more than just a human soul “on board”, so to speak.

“No. He has possessed nothing and no one.” Solas’s reply confirmed Asala’s assumption of what the seeker was referring to. “Yet he appears human in all respects. I would go so far as to say he even predates the Breach. It is really quite remarkable,” he said and turned to regard the boy for a moment. There was a light in his eye that Asala recognised from early on when he had studied her mark early on, not long after she had woken up and they had begun closing rifts. It spoke of fascination. “Cole is unique,” Solas continued as he turned back to face Asala again, studying her intently. She recognised that look, too. He was interested in what her response was going to be. “More than that, he wishes to help. I suggest we let him.”

“Don’t, darling. He may call it whatever he likes, but it is still a threat,” Vivienne cautioned. Asala had heard the phrase “lose-lose” situation once before. She guessed this was one of those. She frowned at the two mages.

“I…” had to go about it in a way that would benefit the Inquisition, not just play to what she feared or felt “…think I should take a closer look myself.” No one argued. Asala turned towards the bottom of the stairs only to notice the boy was no longer there. “Where is he?” Cassandra tensed up for a second before she began scanning the courtyard below. She appeared to be cursing silently.

“If none of us remember him, he could be anywhere,” she bit out silently.

Solas turned towards the outer bailey and, almost immediately, pointed out their target. He was down in the makeshift infirmary area. They hadn’t gotten anywhere sufficiently patched up or cleared out yet to serve as a proper infirmary. Asala frowned and moved it further up on the mental list of stuff in need of doing first. After Haven, they didn’t have enough mages with skills at healing left and she was always needed elsewhere. Keeping the boy within sight, she descended the stairs.

“Haven… So many soldiers fought to protect the pilgrims so they could escape.” He was still standing there when she reached him, just staring at the patients. Nobody seemed to notice him. Asala almost told him they should leave the infirmary. It wasn’t a place for anyone to stand and stare. Not youths, adults or veterans. Even Leliana and Cullen had been sad over the amount of people lost at Haven. She opened her mouth but he beat her to it.

“Choking fear, can’t think from the medicine but the cuts wrack me with every heartbeat.”

She’d approached being wary but it had turned to frowning uncertainly and now something jerked faintly at her heart. The emotion rising behind the words wasn’t meant to taunt, to horrify. They were honest, almost as if he could feel them. He had been there, yes, but as far as she knew, he had come away unharmed.

“Hot white pain, everything burns.” Her fingers twitched and she had to bunch her hands into fists to not reach out. Some part of her mind tried fervently to remind her; this might be a demon, but there was something far too… It was hard to describe. Maybe a purity of feeling? There was no dread, no fear, no pain coming from him or being caused by him. The little muscles in the lower half of his face twisted and pulled taut as he spoke, as if he was feeling or remembering the pain he spoke of. Demons caused pain, they didn’t experience it.

“I can’t… I can’t!” His voice rose softly but the emotion never lessened in it. If anything, it thickened his voice. “I’m going to… I’m dying. I’m…” He made a small, helpless gesture with a hand. Almost as if drawn, Asala followed the unconscious indication. Her eyes ended up on one of their soldiers just as his muscles eased out and calm settled over him. He hadn’t made a sound. “…dead.”

He _was_ sensing their pain? A warning bell went off at the back of her head, echoed by Vivienne’s words, but elsewhere… Solas’s voice resounded, arguing against the possibility. The different sides of the argument tore at her. Two persons, so completely different yet holding her respect and trust for good reasons, and both of them wanting her to listen to them more. Was there even a good solution to this matter?

“Why are you… feeling their pain?”

“They’re in my head,” he replied with a gentle yet steady voice.

Asala started. That had been the unspoken question that had haunted her, lingering at the tip of her tongue and coming from the place where Vivienne’s voice resounded in her head. Had he heard it? She didn’t feel any different, her mental defences the same as always.

“It’s louder this close, with so many of them,” he continued and began to move, slowly, calmly, as his head unerringly turned towards another person. “Every breath slower. Like lying in a warm bath, sliding away… Smell of my daughter’s hair when I kiss her goodnight.” Asala had begun to follow but stumbled at that, her heart stuttering once and then clenching. The surgeon was a short distance away and cast an eye at her when she stumbled. Asala shot her a weak smile and a shake of her head. She didn’t need the woman. The people around her did and some of them… There just wasn’t anything to do for them.

“Gone.”

The man laying on a blanked a few steps away went still, his head gently falling to the side. It was both unnerving and painful. Not to watch the Inquisition’s people though. No, to see and hear Cole just standing there, partaking in the pain as though it could alleviate theirs. Asala halted and stared at the boy when that revelation hit her. She tried to see him as a young man but like with Sera, it was hard. There was just something in his actions that made it nearly impossible. And even if she could, no one should have to suffer another person’s pain.

“Can you… stop it?” she asked as she looked at Cole unhappily. It was almost painful to watch him. He blinked, as if coming out of a haze, and turned his head towards her. He blinked at her as though he couldn’t understand why she would ask such a thing.

“Probably,” he agreed slowly, “but then I can’t help.”

Something squeezed her throat and heart at that. That was why, wasn’t it? The logic he was ruled by was too pure, too simple… too much like that of a child. That was why she had a hard time seeing him as anything beyond a youth. It wasn’t like he was functioning poorly either, as those who couldn’t mentally move past, or regressed to, a young age.

Cole tilted his head and stared uncomprehendingly at her. “Why does that pain you? And at the same time not.”

Asala forced a smile upon her lips and shook her head. She couldn’t say. There was another thing though, beyond the reason to her being unable to see him as an adult. “You’re… a spirit?” she asked as she tried to regain control over her vocal cords.

“Yes. I used to be more. I thought I was a ghost but then I learnt how to be more like what I am. It made me different, but stronger. I can feel more now, do more. I can help.” He frowned. It was as though he was trying to explain something he didn’t have words for, something he just understood because it was how it was meant to be. Asala nodded slowly, a small smile upon her lips. He didn’t need to say anything else. She wasn’t sure if he would have understood Qunlat but she could have explained what she meant so much better if he did.

“You are what you need to be.” Cole looked at her and then nodded. Maybe he understood without her explaining it?

He frowned lightly and turned. It was like someone had called his name and he had eyes at the back of his head so he didn’t have to try and locate the speaker, he already knew. “Cracked brown pain, dry, scraping. Thirsty,” he spoke low as he moved over to a nearby bucket with drinking water, filling a cup. Walking carefully to not spill, he went over to another person and knelt down. “Here.” He helped the woman drink as she struggled to prop herself up. She didn’t even need to make any indication when she was done. Maybe that was for the better. Despite the nearly full cup of water, her voice was a broken, rasping whisper.

“Thank you…”

Cole stood up slowly and went back to her. “It’s all right. She won’t remember me.”

Asala shook her head. It hadn’t been something she worried about but it reinforced what she already believed. The purity, unobtrusiveness and simplicity with which he did things, his ability to understand and focus… They almost made her jealous. She couldn’t once remember having felt this way in Par Vollen, and certainly not in the South. If he had been a normal mortal, she was sure he would have been declared a Qunoran vehl at the end of his life but as he wasn’t truly mortal, she wasn’t even sure he could die.

It was as though Cole had taken a need or task and boiled it down to its bare essentials and then become that essence. Maybe a mortal being _couldn’t_ become that focused. She didn’t begrudge him the perfection of focus, the serenity but a small part of her felt wistful when she thought of it. He had perfected the Qun in a way she never could. If she had been able to achieve such a state of mind and being years ago, everything would have been far more simple.

She let her shoulders relax as she slowly released her breath. Cole was regarding her, the look upon his face telling her he was trying to figure out what she was truly sad about. Her lips twitched. The smile started small but grew wider quickly. However, her voice remained soft when she spoke.

“Stay and help.”

Meeting Cole, more than anything she believed, had shed light upon some of Solas’s explanations about spirits and their nature.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Qunoran vehl – a mentor, one who is an example to others. A Qunari is declared “Qunoran vehl” by the Arishok, and only after their death.
> 
> Asala is still a bit hypocritical when it comes to the South, Chant and Qun. We're all hypocritical about some things in our lives.
> 
> And new sense of identity? Fuck yeah! And one more baby (mentally... kind of) for Asala to get attached to.  
> There sincerely was no other way to deal with Cole. I realised that if she had gone to the templars and met Cole alone, she would have FREAKED. Big style. She would have considered him a demon, able to invade her mind just like Envy, and been deathly afraid of him. Maybe she would have been stuck longer with Envy because she wouldn't have trusted either of them, maybe she wouldn't have gotten out at all. Meeting him like this, at Skyhold and under controlled circumstances (even if she's torn about who to listen to), was far better. She might have tried to kill or banish Cole at Therinfal if she met him there. Poor baby doesn't deserve that. Then again, maybe banishing him would have been more story-appropriate for Asala. It's a fine line.
> 
> I had a lot of trouble with that last bit with Cole. I know what Asala was feeling and how she came to understand and see Cole but I don't know if I managed to set it down in words. These are the moments where telepathy, or communication through feelings, would have been useful. Damn it.  
> For those of you who wonder; yes, Asala would have told him to perform the mercy killing. Not only because she could have used her healing powers to see if, magically or medically, anything could have been done, but because she trusts Cole. Will can sometimes turn anything, no matter how bad, around but in Asala's case, ending the agony would have seemed more prudent.
> 
> Also, a lot of trust going around there. Ouch. (As we know how that ends. This story's just full of big liars left and right.)


	28. Chapter 28

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Is it a plane? Is it Superman? No, it's a bir-- Hawke.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies for the delay. I had to decide how to proceed. For those of you who missed it, there was a oneshot of Bull's PoV posted set between ch 27 and 28. It tells us of things that happened but we won't see in this story (which is different from usual).

It was the distinct feeling of someone poking or rubbing her arm that brought Asala out of the depths of sleep and dreaming. She could almost see the landscape change and fade before her eyes, slipping into the pitch of closed eyes. Well, almost pitch anyway. There was a small light source somewhere nearby. And someone was shaking her arm if very gently. She rolled over and blinked at Varric.

“Varric?” She momentarily slipped and forgot what she usually called him. He had everyone else, or as many as he could anyway, call him that. The dwarf grinned at her, shadows sharp in the light of the sole candle.

“Glad to know you actually know my given name,” he joked before taking a step back. “The person I mentioned yesterday, my, ah… contact. She’s here.” He almost looked somewhat sheepish. Asala frowned in confusion.

“Now?” she rasped out, cleared her throat and tried to spot the sky through the window but it was shuttered. “What’s the time?”

“By my estimation, the sun will start cresting the mountains within the hour.” Now he definitely looked sheepish.

“Has she been travelling all night?”

“No, she… arrived yesterday. Late,” Varric confessed and rubbed the back of his neck with his free hand.

Asala’s frown deepened but then she gave a small nod. “Let me throw on something.” Varric simply gave her a grateful nod and left her with the candle. Asala made quick work of her clothes, throwing on the dragonling coat last. It was ridiculous how she couldn’t leave it behind ever since Cassandra first left it with her, but… She shook her head. There was no point in dwelling upon what had happened after Haven fell. She blew out the candle and exited her small room. She found Varric just outside the large keep doors. He’d left them slightly ajar to guide her but not let all the cold in.

No one was up yet. The only souls awake were Varric, her and the few people who had taken the night watch. They would be relieved soon by the morning watch. Dwarf and Qunari trudged on in silence for a minute, the former leading the way. “The spymaster said Cassandra would possibly be unhappy depending on who this contact of yours is,” Asala spoke up as she eyed Varric without stopping. He looked uncomfortable.

“Unhappy? I doubt the seeker has mellowed that much over the last few weeks,” Varric muttered but in the quiet of the predawn, it was easily heard. There was hardly a tree present in these slopes. It left the mornings bereft of birdsong, leaving them oddly quiet.

“Does she have reason to be unhappy… or worse?” Asala asked as she turned her eyes forward again. They had reached the stairs up onto the battlements.

“She’s someone… Cassandra had expressed interest in speaking to,” Varric answered vaguely. The silence must have done him in for Asala doubted he could feel her raised brow at his back. It wasn’t sharp enough for that. “She’d been through enough. She didn’t deserve being poked, prodded and accused by them,” Varric muttered hastily, ire faintly colouring his words. Asala nodded despite how he couldn’t see her.

“And so you snuck her in late last night to give you both time to breathe and catch up.” She could have made it a question but felt she most likely didn’t. Varric’s defeated sigh and mumbled “yeah” confirmed her suspicions. “Varric, you realise she’s going to find out soon?” Asala told him gently. His given named seemed more appropriate for the situation.

“I know,” he replied and it was easy to tell he wasn’t looking forward to it. Arriving upon the battlements, they stepped off to the side, on a small platform by one of the towers. What it may have been used for, Asala had no idea. It faced the courtyards instead of the outside. Anyone standing guard wouldn’t have been able to do their duty from this position. “She’ll be here shortly,” Varric supplied and leaned on the parapet. He looked slightly uncomfortable, as though he worried she was going to take a bite out of him on Cassandra’s behalf or something.

Asala walked up to the parapet facing the baileys below. They were soon going to fill up. Cullen liked to do some early morning exercises and what templars they had often joined him or awoke early to meditate in the tiny chapel, if it even could be called that, next to the garden. It was such a small and undecorated room. Maybe it didn’t need more. Asala didn’t know as she had never had need of the like before. The garden was another space that needed to be cleaned up properly. It seemed the high walls of the keep protected it from the harshest winds, enabling plants to flourish there if the great amount of green and weeds was anything to go by. She wondered briefly if their alchemists could make use of the space. It would certainly cut down on their great dependence upon outside ingredients for potions and poultices.

Soft steps and Varric moving caused Asala to turn around. A hooded woman was descending the less than half a dozen steps onto the platform they were on. Varric gave her a smile before turning towards the human. “Inquisitor, meet Hawke, the Champion of Kirkwall.”

“Though I don’t use that title much anymore,” the woman said with a smile as she pushed back the hood. She had a second where she fished her long ponytail out of the hood and pushed some tresses to the side, as though she was used to having a lot shorter hair. She had to be just somewhat older than Asala but her life had put a mark upon her. She had a scar that appeared to have just barely missed the fragile parts of her right eye. While her lips were on the thinner side, they seemed to have always, or at least for the better part of her years, smiled. “I’m Marian Hawke, but most everybody just calls me Hawke. I don’t mind either way.”

“And this is the Inquisitor, Asala Adaar. Although with so few Qunari around, you could probably guess.” Asala nodded at the other woman as Varric introduced them. She had a soft way about her, putting her visually, and personally, Asala would have said, at odds with the title she’d been bestowed.

“Thank you, Varric,” the woman replied with a lopsided smile, obviously used to the dwarf’s brand of humour.

“I figured you might have some friendly advice on Corypheus. You and I did fight him, after all,” he said and for a mere moment, a memory flashed in his eyes and Hawke’s expression grew faintly harder before it smoothed out again.

“Yes, we did,” she replied soberly. Varric nodded at them and stepped away but after one step, he turned around so he could pin the taller woman with a pointed stare.

“Oh, and, yes, you still look like you have lost too much weight. It’s not just the lighting. I’ll have the truth out of you later, Hawke. If Blondie ran you ragged—”

“It’s not that,” the human hurriedly interrupted him, waving a hand in front of her in a negative gesture. Varric backed off, both verbally and physically, giving them space. It wasn’t difficult to see that that particular conversation wasn’t over yet between them though. Hawke turned around to face the bailey below and the entrance of the keep. There was a faintly rueful smile upon her lips as she dropped down to lean her arms heavily upon the parapet. Asala joined her, a hand lightly touching the stonework as well. Only a second passed in silence before the other woman let out a small sigh and a hand went up to finger the scar.

“He means well. He’s just a worrywart. Merrill would tell you the same if she ever realised the lengths he went to, to see her safely home.”

“I heard that!” Came the comment from behind them. Hawke’s smile turned a shade more amused, affectionate even.

“My husband did his best to heal my eye when it first happened. I still don’t see perfectly out of it but I never had the heart to tell him. At least I see at all.” Asala had to give it to her, she knew how to prioritise. Seeing something, out of either eye, was better than not seeing at all. “This place is impressive. I doubt I’ve seen the full scope of it or the people who have gathered here, even after last night, but it’s still a daunting number. It reminds me a bit of Kirkwall and my time there. I loved it at first, but then… a lot of people came to depend upon me. A lot of people with a lot of different opinions and feelings and I didn’t even have a maniac who wanted to take over the world to deal with,” she finished with a smile and faint chuckle. Asala had to agree, if you looked upon it as an outsider, she appeared to have an almost insurmountable task. “It must be difficult.”

Asala brushed her fingertips against the rough stone of the parapet, eyeing the surface. “Too many lives are at stake to back down,” she replied. What else was there to say? No one else could close rifts. There was no telling if Corypheus would try to go after both her and the Inquisition if they parted ways. They had ended up here, not just her and not just physically, and here they would stay.

“That’s a commendable attitude. I hope it doesn’t crush you.”

“We can’t really afford to get crushed. We have to win.” She knew what Hawke meant but had purposefully changed the subject from her to the institution she represented. The other woman either let her have it or ignored it. Seeing her so far quite gentle and diplomatic personality, Asala guessed it was the former.

“Let me know if it ever gets easy. I might have missed my stop,” the human said with a lopsided smile, a touch of Varric’s humour peeking through, before she straightened up and turned to face Asala. “So… whatever I can tell you about Corypheus, or anything else, I will. Ask away and I shall try to mention all I think might be prudent. I assume Varric has mentioned something of our history?” At Asala’s nod, Hawke continued. “We fought and killed him. No ifs, buts or maybes. He was as dead as anyone could make a living body when we were done.” She said it with such conviction, it was obvious they hadn’t just poked the corpse with a stick and then left.

“The Grey Wardens were holding him,” she continued, “and he somehow used his connection to the darkspawn to influence them.”

Varric came over to them as Asala also turned around. “Corypheus got into their heads, messed with their minds and turned them against each other,” he summarised the story as Asala’s frown deepened.

Hawke was looking thoughtful. "We shouldn’t jump on it but it needs to be stated; the worst case scenario would be that the Wardens’ disappearance could be because they’ve fallen under his control again.”

“So we lost the hole in the sky only to lose Haven, a huge part of our soldiers and workers while the enemy gained red lyrium templars and now possibly the Grey Wardens?” That was a development Asala could have done without.

“I did say it was a worst case scenario,” Hawke cautioned.

“Forgive me for assuming,” Asala reasoned but without ire or sarcasm, “but what with all that has happened lately, I’m more inclined to count on the worst case scenario than not. Especially if we have no way of telling.”

Hawke nodded understandingly. “Fair enough. Although I do believe I’ve got something that might help with that last bit. I’ve got a friend in the Wardens.” She added on a smile. “Beyond my husband that is.”

“And he isn’t even a proper warden anymore,” Varric muttered beside them. Hawke ignored the comment. Asala assumed, due to their history, this was an old thing and it wasn’t worth dredging up.

“He was investigating something unrelated for me. His name’s Stroud. The last time we spoke, he was worried about corruption in the Warden ranks. Since then, nothing.” The conversation went on for a while after that. The best part to come out of it was that they had the tiniest chance of having a lead on the red lyrium. It even appeared that Leliana’s early worry about the Wardens’ disappearance might be well founded. It was a disturbing thought. At least they had another warden to ask, one who had been closer to home than Blackwall, and they had a location; Crestwood. If there were any new information to be had on the red lyrium, that would be a bonus.

In the end, a topic came up that had Hawke’s body straightening further and she grew just a fraction more closed and guarded. “Inquisitor, you’ll have to forgive me, but unless it’s relevant to current matters, I would suggest we stay off the topic of my husband and the start of the mage rebellion. Most people have proven they do not understand, or don’t wish to even try. What Anders did wasn’t perhaps the best solution, I confess, but things were just going downhill faster and faster. Something had to happen. Maybe, with more time, something could. Something less violent, at that. It would’ve been my preference. However, I do agree with him that the inactivity couldn’t continue.” Asala frowned harshly at the other woman but didn’t say anything. She wanted to, by the prophet, she did, but they didn’t need the animosity. Hawke heaved a sigh and rubbed at her forehead.

“Corypheus is my responsibility, Inquisitor. I see him as such anyway, no matter what happens or how it wasn’t my decision or blood used. You and I, as many others, may not agree on some things, but I’ll do what I can to see him dead. Completely this time.”

Asala inhaled deeply to summon an inner calm, one that for the last month or two had been hard to obtain at all times, and smoothed out her expression before releasing the breath again. She nodded. “Agreed.” She may not like or agree with the woman on everything but she was being reasonable and responsible. It was more than a lot of others in positions of power had been lately. She’d take it. They _needed_ it after all. Hawke gave her a small smile.

“I have a matter or two to deal with before going to Crestwood. I’m also conscious about attracting as little attention as possible. There’s a village in the area, New Crestwood, and the cave is just east of it, in the hills. I’ll meet you there.”

Asala nodded. “I’ll try to get out there as soon as possible.”

Hawke’s smile grew. “You have far more responsibility and certainly people relying and looking to you than I ever did. I understand if there’s a bit of a wait. Just try to be conscious about time and your surroundings. His investigations might have caught the attention of the wrong kind of party. We don’t need any crashers.” Asala raised a brow at that but thought she understood what the other woman meant. She assumed it was some sort of human reference.

“Varric…” Asala turned her attention onto the dwarf, feeling almost apologetic. “I’m meeting with the war council as soon as they’re up for the day.” It was as much of a warning for him to prepare as she could give him. She wasn’t sure how much of this information would have been good to have earlier on or if everything still would have turned out the same. If they hadn’t dealt with the mages at Redcliffe, they would never have known about Corypheus’s plans to summon a demon army or assassinate the empress. Maybe their attention would just have been even more divided and less would have gotten done. Varric nodded, looking just a tiny bit paler than usual. The sun had crested the horizon and faint rays were peeking over the white tops. The fiery globe wasn’t yet fully visible on its own, but that would soon change.

“Catch what peace you can before you go,” she finished with a nod at Hawke. It was windy but they would get the most privacy up on the battlements. Varric and Hawke reciprocated the gesture as Asala turned and left them. Maybe she would review some reports in the war room while waiting for the kitchen to make breakfast. Then again… they were probably in full swing already. Her coming in and grabbing some early wouldn’t change anything if she took it with her to the war room.

How to break the news to Cassandra though?

The meeting didn’t go too badly in the end. Everyone insisted on having the forward scouting team check out the area before Asala travelled there though and in the end, she agreed. They all had good points and it was an area they had no knowledge of or influence in. It was the best move. And, as Josephine stressed, there were always a lot of things at Skyhold requiring her attention. Now that they had relocated and the world knew the Inquisition was still well and working, Ferelden was going to send over Alexius. Tevinter had apparently stripped the man of his station and rights, effectively casting him out and at the mercy of those he had wronged. Leliana, blunter than Josephine, guessed it was a move on Tevinter’s part to officially get as little of the blame as possible. Asala could see the merit of that assumption.

She just didn’t know what to do with the man, honestly. If asked during her time in the future, the answer would have been clear. If asked immediately after her return, the answer would still have been fairly sure. Now… now she didn’t know. The man’s words after their return and his broken looks to his son, as well as the news of the young man himself. He was dead now, Dorian had informed her, but he had managed to return to Tevinter and spoken well about them. Dorian had been right; Felix had been someone other mages, in Tevinter if not elsewhere, should aspire to. It didn’t make dealing with his father any easier. All he had done was done for his son. She had used her magic to heal her charges when needed, aided them. Here was a man who had failed his one charge by simply not being present when the young man came to harm. It could have happened to anyone. To top it off, Felix had caught the one thing no healing in the world could reverse; Blight. What would she have done if it had been one of her charges? She had no immediate answer and, honestly, didn’t really wish to consider it. Was executing Alexius the right answer? Would it be kinder to his broken heart and appeasing to others? Or was there a way to perhaps use the man, where his knowledge and experience could serve?

The swift shuffling of footsteps and the crash of wood against wood brought her out of her thoughts and hastened her step. She’d gone to find Cassandra and been pointed in this direction. Varric had apparently been very invisible for half a day but maybe the warrior had caught him at last. At the very least, they needed the dwarf with only minor injuries. Taking the steps two at a time, she made it up the stairs to where the commotion was.

“You knew where Hawke was all along!”

“You’re damned right I did!”

“You conniving little shit!” Asala reached the landing just in time to see Cassandra take a swing at Varric and the dwarf somehow, like magic, managing to slip out of the corner and cause the woman to swing at empty air.

“You kidnapped me! You interrogated me!” Varric put some much needed distance between himself and the enraged human. The only thing between him and the stairs was Asala. “What did you expect?” Cassandra looked ready to jump right over the tables blocking her way and only because she didn’t have her sword handy to cut them to pieces. Then again, if she’d had the blade, Asala feared Varric might already be sporting a cut.

“Stop it! It’s enough.” Asala took a quick step forward, stepping into view of the two. Cassandra’s furious gaze shot to her.

“You’re taking _his_ side?” She sounded more incredulous than angry now.

“I said enough,” Asala replied with a very pointed voice and a glare at both parties. Fair was fair; she still wasn’t sure what Varric’s information could have done for them earlier on after all. The air felt almost static, like when Vivienne was on the field of battle, calling the heavens to rain fury down upon the enemies around her. Both parties did take a step back though and Asala felt her shoulders relax a little bit. At least there’d be no bloodshed or broken bones when they left here.

“We needed someone to lead this Inquisition,” Cassandra accused with a glare at Varric. “First, Leliana and I searched for the Hero of Ferelden, but he had vanished. Then we looked for Hawke, but she was gone, too. We thought it all connected, but no.” Her glare intensified. “It was just _you_. You kept her from us!”

“The Inquisition _has_ a leader!” Varric argued with the faintly tired edge a person gets in their voice when they feel they’ve been forced to repeat something far too many times.

“Hawke would have been at the Conclave! If _anyone_ could have saved Most Holy—” Cassandra grit her teeth together, biting off her own sentence and took a steadying breath. Asala had seen how much Leliana cared but she hadn’t yet seen how the Conclave’s destruction and the Divine’s death had affected Cassandra. She guessed this was where it all came to a point. Maybe she should have asked Cassandra earlier… Then again, she hadn’t been sure what to tell Leliana. What could she have said that would have been comforting or useful to Cassandra on the matter? She was as far from a child as anyone could get. She had been a tamassran though. This, while the recipient was different, wasn’t too far from what she’d once always done. The least she could do was try. Cassandra was important to the Inquisition but she also respected and liked the woman herself.

“I understand the Champion of Kirkwall managed a lot of things in her life, but we don’t even truly know how _I_ survived. Maybe Hawke would have survived, maybe she wouldn’t. We can’t know and this doesn’t help us now.”

“So I must accept… what? That the Maker _wanted_ all this to happen? That he— that he…” She couldn’t continue, not without something breaking and instead took a few calming breaths.

“Cassandra, this doesn’t help anyone right now,” Asala said gently as she turned to face the other woman completely. Twisting the hand closest to the dwarf, she made a small gesture she hoped he caught and heeded; to stay out of it. “I agree, he should have said something sooner, but maybe it wouldn’t have helped, maybe it would. What if she had been with us from the start and we had gone in search of the missing Wardens instead of dealing with the mages in Redcliffe? We would never have known about the planned assassination or the demon army. Isn’t what matters more that we have her with us now?”

The dark haired woman pushed her gloved hands up over her face, blinking once they cleared the eyes and took another breath. Turning around, Cassandra moved over to a nearby table and leaned heavily on it. There was a moment of silence and Asala cast a glance over at Varric, tilting her head towards the stairs. He frowned for a second but then let out a low sigh through his nose and nodded. “I must not think about what could have been… There’s so much at stake.” She was refocusing, trying to bury that which wouldn’t help the current situation. While focus was commendable, it wouldn’t help Cassandra any to just bury everything without trying to sort through it all just a little bit.

The dwarf stopped at the landing and cast one last glance at Cassandra’s back. “Know what I think?” Asala almost turned and verbally told him to go. “If Hawke had been at the temple, she’d be dead, too. You people have done enough to her,” he finished with a shake of his head and descended the stairs.

Silence settled over the room like a snow cover; every flake light on its own but together they created an almost suffocating blanket. It persisted for half a minute and then Cassandra spoke. “I… believed him.” She shook her head heavily. “He spun his story for me, and I swallowed it.” She stood up and began to pace. “If I’d just explained what was at stake… If I’d just made him understand—!” She came to a slow halt and then sank down in a nearby chair. “But I didn’t, did I? I didn’t explain why we needed Hawke.” She shook her head and Asala moved up to her, taking a chair and sitting down opposite to her.

“Cassandra, tell me what the explosion looked like?” Asala asked patiently.

The human frowned at her for a heartbeat before complying. “I was on my way down into the valley to investigating something. The meeting wasn’t to start until after lunch so it seemed safe and Most Holy was well guarded. The _Conclave_ was well guarded. I don’t understand how anyone could have snuck in—”

“Cassandra,” Asala interrupted and the woman stopped, nodding.

“Light speared out of every window, stronger at the base than the upper levels. Then a great quake shook the ground. A pillar of light burst through the roof of the temple and shot heavenwards. It seemed to go on forever before it struck the cloudy blue and expanded outwards with a deafening roar. It… the magical sound was harsh, even to my ears. I cannot imagine what it must have sounded like to a mage.” Cassandra focused her gaze upon Asala’s. “You didn’t…?”

Asala shook her head. “I don’t remember anything from the mid-morning hours forward.”

Cassandra sighed but nodded. “The sky tore open, like a gash on the body that bled green flames instead of red blood. Then another ball of light, haloed in flame, followed the same path down again and it obliterated the temple. I don’t know if rock can burn or what sort of smell it has, but if it can that was surely it.”

“Do you honestly believe anyone could have survived being at the centre of that?” Asala made her voice as neutral as possible, no judgement, no feelings. A simple request for Cassandra’s logical assessment. Everything was silent for a moment, then the woman shook her head and a heavy sigh left her.

“Maybe no one, not even Hawke, would have survived that,” she finally agreed.

“And if she had… would you not have suspected her just as you did me?”

One corner of Cassandra’s mouth crawled upwards so little Asala would have missed it if she hadn’t been observant. “Yes, I would have.” The warrior lifted her eyes from the floor to meet Asala’s. “Perhaps even more so than you because Hawke didn’t condemn the man who blew up Kirkwall’s chantry after all.”

Asala gave the other woman a small smile. “And if Hawke had been there, the chance of her dying would have been a hundred times greater than us ever getting this lead about the Grey Wardens, don’t you think?”

“That… is true, too,” Cassandra confessed after a moment’s silence.

“So, maybe, it was all meant to be this way,” Asala told her carefully. “It isn’t nice, but maybe it was better than the opposite. Seeing the horror in the future, dealing with the mages and the temporal disruptions around Redcliffe was, after all, better than me getting stuck in the future. I would have tried to save what was left of the Inquisition there in a bid to rid the world of Corypheus but what sort of world would there have been left by then?” _Asit tal-eb_ , she silently added as Cassandra nodded. “Maybe what we feel is horrible is the lesser of two greater evils,” Asala finished, placing a hand upon the warrior’s shoulder.

“Thank you, Asala… What you say is true, but… this isn’t about Hawke, not really. It’s not even about Varric.” Cassandra rubbed at her forehead with a hand. Asala let her hand rest upon the other woman’s shoulder. If she wished to continue, she would. The Qunari didn’t have to wait long. “I should have been more careful, I should have been smarter.” She pressed her teeth together, eyes closing. “I should have seen something coming before the temple blew up. I don’t deserve to be here,” she concluded harshly.

Asala regarded the sitting woman. The crux of it all, at long last. “We all do what we can. We are mortal, not perfect. We can only try… and we will fail at times. There is no escaping that truth. However, _how_ we let that failure define us is a different matter entirely. If no one has made the mistake you’re making, how could you ever have acquired any different way to reason?” Asala was quiet for a moment but then decided to speak Cassandra’s language for once. “Take, for example, this; Andraste had the easier task, telling her people that magic was to serve, not rule.”

Cassandra’s eyes lifted faster than she could have repeated the phrase in Qunlat. “You…”

Asala smiled. “It’s something Mother Giselle said to me once.”

Cassandra gave her a lopsided smile, but it was wider than anything she had managed to put upon her face so far. Asala considered it a win. The warrior slowly stood up and Asala let her hand fall to her side. “I want you to know, I have no regrets.” She allowed a small but sad smile touch her lips for a second before fading away. “Maybe if we’d found Hawke or the Hero of Ferelden, the Maker wouldn’t have needed to send you to us. But He did. You’re not what I would have pictured… but you’ve done more than I ever would have expected.”

Asala nodded. “Thank you. I do what I can.” Asala feared she could be accused of feeling much like Cassandra did at times though. The need to do more, do better, to succeed in everything… She had to try and remember her own words at times. It was hard.

Parting ways with Cassandra, Asala went in search for Varric. She wanted to hear what he had to say and also to let him know Cassandra wasn’t about to come after him with a sword or too sharp eyeball daggers anymore. She did understand he did what he thought was best. She personally knew what it was like to be the suspect in Cassandra’s eyes and didn’t wish it upon anyone who wasn’t deserving of it. She may not agree with all of Hawke’s sentiments, but Cassandra was a bit of a force of nature; few things could cause her to come to a halt.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Asit tal-eb – "The way things are meant to be." or "It is to be." A driving principle of the Qunari philosophy.
> 
> Corypheus; biggest party-crasher in Thedas. Boo!
> 
> Yes, I made Vivienne a storm mage for those who caught that.
> 
> About Hawke: She no longer wears the blood swipe across her nose. Too recognisable. She's also grown her hair out and gained a scar for similar reasons. Running around and seeing to Anders has taken its toll on her. She not only spared him but also hid and then smuggled him out of Kirkwall to safety onboard Isabela's ship when it became difficult to keep him hidden within the city. This is faintly touched upon in my two chapter story "Do me a favour?" and hinted at here. Hawke never left Anders's side and, as a mage, continued to try and help him. She also tried to either subdue or find a way to separate him and Justice/Vengeance. The rest, as they say, is history (and follows the game).


	29. April's fools edition

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An unexpected turn of events!

Word had come in from Harding not many days later. It was a short note, _very_ short note, and the content was worrying. It caused a hasty exit from Skyhold and a swift journey. Apparently undead were rising around Crestwood. Asala cursed not having pressed the issue of leaving earlier with her advisors. Crestwood had apparently been the sight of a flood ten years ago and depending on how many went under in that tragedy, wasn’t Crestwood just the _best_ place to have corpses getting up and doing the shimmy? Luckily, the trip itself proved uneventful but maybe that was just the world making up for all the shit that was going to go down once they arrived in Crestwood.

Arrival was midday on the third day after leaving Skyhold, a record in some book, Asala was sure. At least the weather had been holding but the sky was threatening to break open at any time. The lead scout, Harding, was hurrying towards them as soon as they slowed down. The woman began talking even before they had all dismounted.

“Inquisitor, it’s good to see you. We’ve got trouble… big trouble.”

“What is it?” Asala inquired as her feet touched ground and she handed over the reins to a woman in Inquisition uniform. Harding was rubbing the back of her head anxiously.

“Well… Remember that note I sent? About undead?” Asala nodded warily. “It’s gotten worse,” the dwarf confessed with equal amounts of sheepishness and dread. She almost looked apologetic.

“How much?” Asala asked slowly, not really inclined to hear the answer.

“A lot—” A screech rent the sky, cutting the woman’s words short, and causing them all to hunch down out of reflex. Well, all except Iron Bull. Maybe because he was too busy grinning and following the far too close dragon with his eye.

“This is gonna be great!”

He sounded far too happy about it. Asala would have applied a far sourer note to the internal voice if she hadn’t been gazing the dragon almost as intently. Okay, so, Harding hadn’t been exaggerating. Good to know. She flicked golden eyes over onto the dwarf again who gave her an apologetic shrug.

“From what we’ve been able to gather, she took up residence not too long ago. No one knows why but she’s been terrorising the surroundings ever since.”

“Has there been any sightings of a clutch?”

“No, Your Worship, thankfully not.”

 _Yet,_ Asala amended Harding’s reply unhappily. At least that was her assumption for the dragon’s sudden presence and apparent stay in the area. Was it the correct season for it? Maybe… She didn’t know. Maybe it was in preparation, but then shouldn’t there also be a male around? Or had they not arrived yet? A crack of lightning rent the sky in the distance, lighting up the dragon.

“That looks to be a Northern Hunter,” Varric supplied warily as the dragon was circling a great swath of sky. Asala wasn’t sure if it was moving closer or not.

“We need to get to the village. Will it block the way?”

“See the ridges over there?” Harding asked as she pointed. Asala nodded. “The village is beyond them.” Asala grit her teeth. “Ser Hawke hasn’t arrived yet so we’re not sure where her warden friend could be hiding, but it’s definitely beyond the village.” Asala gave another, more curt, nod before swallowing lightly. There was nothing else for it, right? Could they take on a dragon if they had to? She glanced back at the others. Iron Bull was the only one who seemed to be raring to go. They could try…

Shortly after leaving the camp, the rain began, making for a splendid continuation on a so far _great_ day. No one could accuse Asala of not having learnt how to utilise sarcasm during her time in the south, at least to some extent. And then it just got better. It didn’t take long before the fat drops had multiplied and it was pouring down. They managed to get down the hill without anyone slipping on the rapidly increasing mud and had just come around a corner where the landscape opened up into a smaller field of low hills when they saw someone. It was actually a pair.

The rain made it difficult to see but they were human that much was for certain. The wind picked up as they drew nearer but it wasn’t until Iron Bull grasped her shoulder and raised his voice close to her ear that Asala actually heard him.

“Boss! Incoming!”

Asala’s head shot up just as the swooping sound became apparent above the howling wind. The rest happened as if in a blur. The dragon landed harshly, galloping a few steps, and destroying the rock fence framing the dirt road as if it was made of sticks leaning against each other. But she didn’t stop and didn’t slow. Snatching one of the men in her great jaws, the dragon knocked the other one to the ground in the passing. He rolled before his head made contact with the remains of the fence. They couldn’t hear it from where they were standing, but it sure looked like the blow was accompanied by a resounding CRACK. The dragon made up for the lacking sound effect when she crushed her prey between her teeth.

“Chance of backing away slowly?” Varric whispered behind her. Or maybe he wasn’t whispering. Maybe it was the wind and rain and he was actually speaking loudly. Asala wasn’t sure. Something that was obvious though, was that there would be no sneaking off. The dragon had turned her great head their way.

“Can we do this?” Asala demanded worriedly, not happy about how shrill her voice had gone as she took a step back.

“Only one way to find out!” Iron Bull replied as he hefted his axe and moved free of them. Asala cast her eyes back at the rest of them. Blackwall was drawing his sword and shield but he didn’t look as convinced as the Qunari warrior. However, what Asala could read on his face was that they had no other way out. It was through the dragon or nothing. Dorian was mumbling something in Tevene, and it didn’t sound flattering, while Varric and Sera were pulling their weapons free, too. Asala knew that mind over matters could do a lot but… she couldn’t make herself believe they would get out of this one alive. She pulled her new staff free nonetheless. It was like a signal to the rest of them and the two warriors charged forward while the rest of them spread out.

Asala cast a barrier around the human and Qunari before they got too close to the hulking beast. The dragon screeched as the men drew nearer. Iron Bull reached her first, taking the swing but she danced to the side in a far too liquid movement. It sent a chill down Asala’s spine. The agility defied the beast’s great mass. How would they…?

And then there was no room for doubt, or even thought. It became a dance of dodging and striking but little blocking. Not even Iron Bull could have blocked that beast’s swipes. It reminded Asala far too much of that huge demon they had fought before any but Varric had joined them, before Asala had been even the Herald of Andraste. It seemed so long ago now…

An icy barrage crashed into the dragon’s flank.

A flash of fire met a great ball of lightning head on in an explosive collision.

A flash of heavy steel bit into a flank, followed by a howl of pain.

A swipe of claws was barely dodged…

…and then a tail wasn’t.

Blackwall went rolling and crashing into a rock. The clank of the armour and the dull surface of the stone, as well as the man still moving if laboriously, spoke of the nonlethal nature of the blow. He would get up, Asala knew that much, but they were fighting a losing battle at this rate. Loosening her tight leash on her mark, she allowed the energies to flow freely. It made the creation of the spectral blade easier. Gritting her teeth, Asala threw a barrier over herself and rushed forward before she could decide this was a very stupid idea. How were they going to survive against a dragon? It was just a foolish notion!

Battle haze descended. Asala pulled upon the energies leaking through the anchor to strengthen her shield further. Blackwall was back on his feet again but she couldn’t tell when he had rejoined them. She thought she saw Harding at some point. She must have because suddenly there was a human in Inquisition uniform between the dragon’s jaws. The scout team must have heard the dragon and come to check. Of course they would join when they saw who was fighting it.

“Dorian!”

It was the first thing that jolted Asala out of her haze, of only seeing the dragon. She whipped around to see the man in question on his knees and hunched over. Only his staff kept him completely off the ground. Residual electricity was crackling all around him but it seemed as though a barrier had taken the burn of the dragon’s breath.

“Eyes front!”

Asala whirled back just as Iron Bull took a tail to his midsection because he had taken his full attention of the dragon for even a second. He went flying backwards, crashing into steep slope. At least the fall was softer than a rock could make it, but it wasn’t great. Asala went back into the fray with her spectral blade. What else could they do now but try and come out with as few losses as possible?

And then another member of the scout team went down. Harding took a swipe of claws to her torso that didn’t get through the breastplate but rent the hardened leather and metal links protecting her midsection. This was a losing battle. Asala gritted her teeth and tried to keep the whole battlefield in view and not let her vision shrink again.

A pained yell ripped through the air.

The sound tore into Asala as surely as the dragon’s claws could have done… _would_ do. It was only a matter of time but they had already torn into someone else. It felt like she was moving in slow motion, like how the temporal distortions at Redcliffe had altered the time around her when she stepped into one. Her heart stuttered as she saw the red bubble up across Sera’s arm and chest. The rain mingled with it and diluted it as the girl fell to her knees beside Harding. The thought how she must have moved to get the dwarf out of the dragon’s reach surfaced but it was being crowded by horror and anger.

The dragon had cut the girl… _her_ charge.

The blood that had stopped dead in Asala’s veins suddenly came to roaring life, clouding her vision as surely as the red staining the elf’s rent armour. The arcane blade in her hand flared brighter as the anchor burnt merrily in her mind’s eye. The world seemed to bleed into red and green hues as she turned back to the dragon with a snarl. That was _her_ charge, _her_ baby! The anchor’s power exploded outwards, crawling up her arm in wild abandon. Heat was eating at her skin from the emotions bubbling up inside her from her very core; wild, ferocious heat.

Dragon rage… never had the term been so applicable. At least that’s what she would have thought if she’d had any mental capacity left for rational thought. But she didn’t.

Everything bled into one focal point; dragon.

****************

_“I believe we’ve finally located her. We don’t know what you’re going to find though. You’re authorised to use whatever actions are deemed necessary without reporting back first.”_

Cassandra remembered the words well. Leliana’s voice had been heavy as she delivered the statement to them. Josephine and Cullen had been completely silent. The ambassador hadn’t been able to keep her eyes upon the spymaster in the end and had turned away, a hand covering her mouth. The walls of Skyhold were thick and the war room was more apart from the rest of the keep than the war room had been in Haven. There had been no audible proof of argument but Josephine’s actions seemed to imply there had been one.

And now… Here they stood, all of them, at the edge of the Silent Plains, right between Nevarra and Tantervale. It was on Tevinter’s side of the river. The lazy afternoon sun was shining down upon the ruin. It could have been centuries old for all Cassandra knew or recently razed but Dorian had ensured it was old. They had a group of Inquisition soldiers with them but they were currently waiting further away, closer to the river. No one wanted Tevinter to think this was an act of violence or prelude to anything. They were here for one thing and one thing alone… Cassandra wished they didn’t have to but for mercy’s sake, they would go through with it.

Moving through the rubble that had once been a curtain wall and a few other buildings within it, it didn’t take long to come upon the signs of dragons.

“Red’s got the location down,” Iron Bull muttered beside the seeker who nodded sombrely.

The sound of small stones being kicked out of the way and movement made the group halt as one. There was no one else around but them.

“Up.” Sera’s voice was low but everyone heard it. Heads rose to the second floor of the ruined tower at the heart complex. It still had most of its walls intact but from the ground up to the third floor, the wall facing them had been taken out. The floor of the third floor had partially collapsed as well, making it look as though the second floor had a balcony without a balustrade. There was a dragonling up on that balcony, gazing down at them. It opened its jaws and growled softly at them. If Cassandra was any judge, it was very young. Was this the wrong place then? The mother had to be around after all…

And then two more dragonlings appeared up on the balcony, one of them drawing close enough to the edge that tiny pieces of the mortar crumbled and fell to the ground. The floor didn’t collapse further though and the small dragon didn’t move.

“There shouldn’t be any dragons this close to the border,” Dorian whispered with a frown. “The border patrol would have seen to it long before the mother got her clutch hatched.”

“Maybe they did,” Iron Bull agreed as another shape moved into view up on the balcony. One golden eye peered down upon them before a mouth opened and a hiss slithered forth. A hiss _and_ a tiny billow of smoke. A warning.

Cassandra’s heart clenched at the sight. Beside her, Iron Bull’s face had locked down into something unreadable. Maybe it was horror. She wasn’t sure but his words about control and how the Qun helped control the Qunari tickled the edge of her mind. Was this something that could happen if they didn’t have it? But there were many Tal-Vashoth in Thedas that, while turning to banditry, hadn’t fallen to become… _this_.

Iron Bull hefted his axe into position. He’d been holding onto it before they even step foot in the ruins but now he was actually ready to use it. Another warning hiss was emitted from above.

“Do we really have to….?” Sera didn’t complete the sentence and she hadn’t drawn the bowstring taut but the arrow she had nocked earlier was still in position.

“Yes, we do,” Iron Bull replied calmly as he kept his gaze locked upon the ragged form flanked by the dragonlings. They didn’t seem bothered by her different appearance. The tiny beasts actually acted as though the figure _was_ of a dragon… As though she was their mother. They had drawn nearer to her when she uttered her warning.

“But isn’t there something we can do?”

Iron Bull turned his head towards the elf. The woman up on the second floor wasn’t moving after all and his good eye had her in his peripheral vision. “Sera, trust me, there isn’t anything that can be done at this point. Look at her,” he said with a pointed glance at the elf who glared back at him. The Qunari let out a frustrated sigh and took a step towards the girl—

A much louder hiss shot through the air, causing everyone to freeze. The woman up on the second floor had opened her mouth, revealing sharp teeth and actual fangs. A faint trail of smoke was gently billowing out of her open mouth and behind her large, translucent wings were suddenly flexing. They were the same green as her left hand was pulsing with, the glow shaping her fingertips into claws.

Iron Bull regarded the woman for a second and then, not moving, reached out a hand towards Sera. The one eye that hadn’t been rent by claws and healed shut homed in on his hand with malicious intent. Iron Bull pulled his hand out of Sera’s personal space and the smoke wafting from the woman’s mouth receded minutely.

“Everybody but Sera take a step back,” he ordered as he began to move. It was a gamble but he was pretty sure of it.

“What?” The elf turned around. “Are you daft? I don’t want to be well done!”

“You won’t,” the Qunari replied as he moved Cassandra with him. “Now stand still.”

Sera’s head whipped back towards the balcony as she opened her mouth to argue again but something halted her words. The figure above had closed her mouth and was regarding them carefully. Realisation dawned upon the group.

“Sera, try raising your bow.”

“What? But…” The elf stared up at the woman with the broken horns. She didn’t have much in common with the person that had been labelled the Herald of Andraste other than her appearance, and even that had taken a beating, so to speak. The clothes were torn into rags, she had scars and only one working eye. She also had fade energy swirling at her back in the same of dragon wings and her hands and feet were shrouded in the same energy, shaping the digits into talons. That was, and wasn’t, the Herald of Andraste. How could she just do what the Qunari said and shoot her?

“Just try it,” Iron Bull pressed.

Sera swallowed and raised her bow, hesitated for a second at the midway point before quickly raising it. The woman up on the balcony didn’t react. She trusted the elf. Sera’s had to ground her teeth together to not make a sound. “I… I can’t do it.” She finally managed to steady her voice enough to speak.

“She won’t attack you. She doesn’t consider you as a possible hostile.” Because Sera was like one of her adopted babies, Iron Bull didn’t say it though. He didn’t believe it would help the elf do what had to be done. This woman was lost. He had never seen anything of the like but maybe she had fallen to the dragon inside her because of the mark upon her hand. Maybe magic had fed what all Qunari had inside them. He wasn’t sure and wasn’t sure he wanted to know either.

“Just do it. For her.”

A second passed in silence and then another.

Then the bowstring was suddenly pulled taut and the arrow released.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, guys, who likes April's Fools? *shot*
> 
> No, this isn't the real chapter. Did anyone prank someone yesterday? I considered it but then thought it was too mean (due to the nature of the prank)... So you guys got a delayed prank instead! Lucky you, huh? (I'll try to finish up the real chapter soon.)


	30. The real one

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The hunt for Hawke's warden friend is on.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We have now begun the countdown to our first (real) dragon fight. Woo!
> 
> ...It didn't like having two chapter 29s. Damn. (not even 29.5)

“It’s not completely finished yet as we’re still expecting some additional furnishings from craftsmen in Val Royeaux, but you shouldn’t have to continue using your current quarters,” Josephine said as she indicated the room before them with a sweeping gesture. Asala thought it was already decorated enough. She didn’t understand the need for the big mural on the wall above the mezzanine. She didn’t see the point of the mezzanine either, seeing its diminutive size. Maybe it was a human thing? Solas was making frescos in the rotunda but at least they served the purpose of recording recent history.

One part of her new chambers that hadn’t been done “just because she was the Inquisitor and needed better and prettier quarters” as Josephine had insisted, was the windows. The domed top had been done in stained glass because they needed repairing and there had been other windows in the keep that were broken. Somehow the stained glass windows in the grand hall had survived however long this place had stood abandoned. Asala didn’t mind. There were enough holes to patch and they needed more shelter as soon as possible seeing their growing numbers.

Knowing it would be a fairly lost cause to argue with the noble, Asala just nodded at her comment. There was a bed, desk, well-stocked fireplace, space for any documents, books and maps she might need handy. She’d manage. “I’m sure it’ll be here before we get back,” she absently replied as she walked out onto the balcony facing the courtyards. Word from Harding and the scout team would be arriving any day now, she was sure. They must have arrived in Crestwood’s vicinity and gotten an initial lay of the land by now. She already knew who she would be taking with her. They wouldn’t need a big team. Not unless there was unrest or Venatori activity in the area. The civil war between the grand duke and the empress was still ongoing out on the southern reaches of the empire. She’d discussed it with Cullen and Josephine the day before. Depending on where Hawke and her warden friend’s lead would take them, they could be going straight into a war zone or north into the Free Marches, Nevarra or Tevinter. If they were lucky, they didn’t need to leave Ferelden. They were on very decent terms with the kingdom’s monarchs at the moment, to say the least. One of Leliana’s informants in Denerim had sent notes regarding worries of Venatori activity in the city. The spymaster was currently liaising with agents closer to the capital to see what could be done before anything lethal occurred. It was worrying how fast the enemy was moving. Asala frowned. She really wanted that messenger bird to come soon. Sitting around here was stupid when so much was going on.

“Inquisitor?”

Asala blinked and turned to Josephine standing beside her. “Yes? Sorry, repeat, please.” The ambassador nodded and went back over what she’d just been saying.

“To be able to clear both of these matter at the same time, I would request the aid of Lady Vivienne,” Josephine said a while later. “They are both matters of some urgency but I cannot attend both myself.”

Asala nodded. “You may have her for—” Her sentence ended abruptly with a sharp intake of breath. A bird was descending towards the rookery. Asala was off the balcony and on her way to the door and stairs down in a matter of heartbeats. “Are we done? Please get the commander and head to the war room!” Asala quickly shot back at the ambassador over her shoulder, feeling only a bit apologetic for the rushed conclusion to their briefing.

“I’ll see you there soon and there was one last thing I wished to review with you!” Josephine called after her as she began to follow at a not so frantic pace.

Asala ran into Leliana in the doorway leading into the library. They just about managed to avoid a collision. “Do we have news?” she quickly asked before the spymaster could get a word in. An amused light flashed in the human’s eyes for a second, most likely at Asala’s reaction, but quickly retreated in favour of seriousness.

“Not the kind you want.”

“What does that mean?” Asala demanded with an annoyed frown.

Leliana shook her head. “Not here. Let’s go to the war room.”

Asala gave the woman a faint glare but turned and led the way. She swore Leliana did it just to annoy her. It was, however, the logical thing to do but still. They entered the great hall at the same time as Cullen. Apparently Josephine had nabbed a servant to run and inform the commander and headed, much more leisurely, to the war room. Once they were all accounted for, Leliana gave her report.

“It’s from the Blades of Hessarian.” Asala stared, blinking once or twice. That was it? “There has been a sudden appearance of several small darkspawn patrols in the area.” The room stilled. “They’re requesting aid.”

Asala took a deep breath and let it out slowly. This was so not what they needed now. She just barely refrained from rubbing at her face. “And there’s no way of telling if they have any connection to Corypheus or not,” she stated tiredly.

Leliana shook her head. “It’s unlikely but darkspawn breaking the surface is bad enough. We have ruled out this being a true Blight, even if it has enough common denominators, but we don’t need the panic of darkspawn appearing at random. We need to find out where they’re coming from before this problem grows.”

Asala agreed but the question was; how. They had reduced the presence of their own scouts in the area to a bare minimum since the Blades were loyal to her and the Inquisition. As demonstrated by this report, they had proved more than useful. However, the lessened Inquisition activity in the area meant there weren’t enough people on standby in the vicinity to deal with this. Asala turned her head to Josephine. “Give me an estimation on the possibility of local banns being able to muster up a sufficient force quickly enough to deal with this compared to us sending someone out.”

“It’s possible,” the woman agreed reluctantly, “but this particular area of the Storm Coast is sparsely populated due to dragon activity. As it stands, communication between us and the banns and then them with any nearby arling or even the monarchs would put us in a better position to deal with the matter.”

Asala nodded heavily. She had assumed as much. She considered the map before her. The Chargers were still out on a recovery mission to the remains of Haven… “I’ll speak to Warden Blackwall,” she said at length. She’d considered taking him along to Crestwood as their primary mission _was_ Warden business. It’d just seemed fair.

****************

“That’s our situation,” Asala finished briefing Blackwall who was leaning his lower back on a table with a big piece of wood on it. It was being carved into something. Asala wasn’t sure what and hadn’t asked but it appeared to be in the likeness of the winged animal emblazoned upon his armour. The warden nodded but didn’t look too happy. He obviously appreciated the Inquisition taking note of darkspawn activity, especially since no one had seen hair nor hide of the rest of his order. “I know this is your duty and we can ill afford darkspawn rising anywhere at the moment, so I’m giving you the choice; head to the Storm Coast or come with me to Crestwood.”

Blackwall blinked at her, surprised. “I’m… sorry, my lady, I hadn’t considered it.”

She gave him a small smile. “Both these tasks are important to you and your order, as such I believe you to be best suited to make the call. If you choose to go to the Storm Coast, you won’t be going alone.” Experienced or no, it was never sensible to engaged an enemy alone if you planned to do more than just observe. Blackwall must have caught what she meant because he nodded.

“I gratefully accept, Inquisitor, and… thank you.” Asala raised her brows at that. He looked faintly relieved but she couldn’t say why.

“No gratitude needed,” she replied with a nod as she turned to leave. “I’m just trying to make the best of the situation. Oh.” She stopped, remembering another thing. Turning back around, Asala gave the man a slightly apologetic smile. “I understand you, as many others, don’t feel entirely comfortable around Cole but… I’d have you bring him along, as well as a few others.”

Blackwall frowned. “Why?” He managed to keep the reluctance out of his voice but there was a hint of it in his eyes.

“Because apart from you, I’m almost certain he can’t catch the Blight.” He wasn’t like other mortals, like the living. Someone who wasn’t truly living couldn’t catch the Blight, right? By the table, Blackwall sighed.

“Fair enough. He’s a decent fighter, I’ll give him that.”

“Solas will accompany you,” Asala added, hoping it might make the trip slightly less difficult for the man. For Cole, too.

Blackwall nodded and his voice affected a dry tone. “I appreciate it.” Asala smiled amusedly at what she assumed was a conscious understatement on his part as she left the stables. It didn’t take long to divvy up the people she felt she could entrust with the duty of the Storm Coast operation. She could have asked Cullen to send along additional forces but decided to leave them to wherever the commander felt they were needed. She had seen her companions in action and was confident they, along with the Blades of Hessarian and a few of Leliana’s people, would be able to do the job. She was also eager to get going. The grand masquerade hosted at the Winter Palace had a set date they couldn’t avoid. Depending on how long the business in Crestwood and at the Storm Coast took, they might not have had time to deal with both situations and the necessary preparations before the event. Josephine had actually mentioned something about finding Asala a tutor in the courtly dances that were likely to be part of the entertainment. Asala didn’t see the need for the Inquisition, much less her, to dance at the event but the ambassador, as well as the spymaster, insisted upon her at least knowing how. At times humans, or all Southerners really, appeared to be one of those mysteries in the world that Asala would never fully grasp.

Much to Asala’s relief, Harding’s initial report of Crestwood came the same evening. If the bird had arrived earlier, Asala might even have advocated leaving that same day. As it stood, she left early the next day instead together with Cassandra, Iron Bull, Varric and Sera. Leaving early however, didn’t negate the amount of travel they had before them. It was during one of the spells of walking their mounts that Iron Bull mentioned something interesting.

“Hey, Varric, you get that thing I asked about?”

“It should be at Skyhold well before we return, I believe,” the dwarf confirmed as he scratched his stubble. “Not easy to find, by the way,” he added, the light frown of annoyance audible in his voice.

“Hmm… Down here, I’m not surprised,” the Qunari agreed. “How do you guys live without this stuff?”

“I don’t see what the deal is honestly, but different taste.”

“What are you two talking about?” Cassandra inquired with equal amounts suspicion and curiosity as she shot a look over her shoulder where she led her horse beside Asala.

“Just Bull’s fetishes, Seeker,” Varric replied airily, making the woman frown.

“Hey…” The man in question grumbled his protest, causing Varric to chuckle. “Bah.” If one word could have dismissed people by the way it was uttered, that was it. “Now I just need some hot milk and some of those Orlesian guimauves to put in it.”

“Hey, what you do with this cocoa is up to you. I don't need to hear about it,” Varric argued as Asala’s mind registered and translated the words before having her bodily freeze, jerking her horse into a halt. She whipped around to stare at the dwarf.

“You found—?!” Her words died in her throat as she realised not only Varric and Iron Bull were staring at her. A deathly still second passed before she felt heat begin to crawl up her neck and face. She didn’t blush often, hadn’t been in enough situations lately that caused such a reaction, but she knew her skin was too pale to not show it. Embarrassed, she awkwardly turned back to face the direction they were heading in. No, she hadn’t had cocoa for the last two years. Yes, she missed the damned thing. But, no, she shouldn’t let it get to her like that. Behind her, Sera and Iron Bull had begun laughing.

“I’m sure there’ll be enough to share,” Varric replied with a chuckle of his own. Cassandra kept blessedly quiet but there was a smile tugging at the corners of her mouth. Asala prayed they could arrive soon so the journey would be over and they could get down to business.

It took two full days to reach Crestwood and once there the rain had begun to fall. It was only a drizzle but annoying nonetheless. If Asala had to choose between another day of travel and the drizzle though, she’d take the rain. The group arrived at the forward camp some hour or two before midday. Harding came out of a tent as they dismounted.

“Wow. That was fast,” she noted, impressed. “Not that I’m not glad. We’ve got trouble ahead.”

“You said as much,” Asala agreed as she handed over the reins to a nearby Inquisition scout before walking up to where the dwarf stood. “What is it? Has Hawke arrived yet?” Harding shook her head at Asala’s worried questions.

“The champion isn’t here, not as far as we’ve seen anyway.” Indicating the edge of the camp, which overlooked the bay, Harding moved over to it and Asala followed. There was a faint, washed out glow staining the unsettled waters in the distance and once they got close enough so that the nearby cliff didn’t block their line of sight, Asala understood where it was coming from. She stared mutely at the giant rift that flickered beneath the surface of the lake. Maybe it was just the water giving a warped vision and the rift really wasn’t that big, like how sound became muted once your ears were submerged. Asala doubted it though. They couldn’t be that lucky and Harding wouldn’t have said it was bad up here if that had been the case.

“Crestwood was the sight of a flood ten years ago during the Blight,” Harding told her before going into detail about the area. There was a keep in the area but the gates stayed firmly shut and warning arrows had been shot when the scouts drew too close, indicating that whoever occupied it wasn’t friendly. The news about restless dead didn’t make the situation any better. Asala assumed it was spirits from the rift. If many died in the flood then there’d be a lot of bodies around for them to latch on to or get stuck in. Solas had explained how most of them probably never wanted to be here. Well, the feeling was mutual.

Asala squinted and raised a hand against the rain. “Is that thing just below the surface, or…?” The water appeared even more unsettled where the glow was strongest but the light was so muted. Rifts were usually damned bright. Harding simply shook her head.

“We haven’t been able to get out there. There are few boats to be had and the villagers, the rare one or two we’ve met, say it isn’t safe. I would suggest speaking to the mayor. He wasn’t in the one time we managed to get down there.” Asala nodded in reply before turning her back upon the lake. The best thing to do now was just to get going. Hawke hadn’t arrived yet but with that rift, maybe it was a good thing.

Leaving the camp behind, they heading down the slope and began following the road that would lead to Crestwood village and beyond. The dreary day with its overcast sky certainly suited the threat of undead rising from the water that always seemed to be far too close. It also made Asala continuously throw paranoid eyes at the lake whenever it was in sight. The downpour wasn’t heavy, it appeared determined to remain at an annoying drizzle, and as such didn’t mask the sound of fighting rising from beyond a curve in the road. Picking up speed, the group cleared the rock just in time to see the last of four undead fall before a man with a sword and shield. Further down the road another was lowering his bow while an elven woman was cowering behind him. As they drew closer, the archer put his bow away and helped the young woman to her feet.

“Are you all right?” The warrior has a momentary pause as they drew closer. Asala guessed it was from realising what she was much like she could finally tell he, as well as his companion, was wearing a Grey warden uniform. Depending on how well informed the Wardens were on current happenings in the world, maybe he recognised her or could take a guess based on her appearance. He recovered quickly and gave the group a nod. The woman with them had to be a villager seeing her clothes. “I’d go back to the village, miss. These roads aren’t safe,” the archer continued as his companion reached him, as did Asala and the others moments later. The young woman cast unsure eyes at the road ahead before the flitted back to the two wardens.

“We’re headed in that direction,” Cassandra spoke up as she stepped up beside Asala. “If you’re worried, you can walk with us.” The elf turned a bright smile upon the human but Asala held up a hand.

“If I could, may I ask a question or two first, wardens?”

“What do you require, Inquisitor?” the warrior sounded assured but he did cast a glance at Cassandra’s armour, reaffirming that at least one other member of the odd group wore the Inquisition’s emblem.

“What are you doing all the way out here?” Hawke had said her friend had been worried about corruption. Was it safe to inquire about their fellow order member or not?

“A warden named Stroud is wanted for questioning. We heard he passed through here but so far no one has seen him. We must stay with our orders and can’t tarry long,” the warrior answered before a faintly hopeful light emerged in his eyes. “With your presence here, Inquisitor, does that mean the Inquisition has come to render aid?” Nothing had been set in stone but Asala understood their inability to remain beyond the fact that they were only two souls with no ability to close rifts or special powers against demons and spirits.

“You are correct,” Asala confirmed with a nod. The two men seemed relieved. There wasn’t much more they could offer by way of information, and they soon parted ways with the young woman merrily pointing the way. It was almost as though she was trying to make up for there being no sun to welcome them to the area. She was also very chatty. She fired off a number of comments about the area, some more useful than others. Apparently the keep had been overrun by some bandits and the villagers were having trouble with a dragon. She only came out every two to three days though, so, if luck held, the woman noted, they might miss the monster entirely. Asala had time to have the fleeting thought of if the group could take on such a beast or not before something else the elf said caught her attention.

“Did you see how the Grey Wardens saved me from those corpses, Your Worship?” She had metaphorical stars in her eyes and only because there was no lights out to make her eyes sparkle. “They’re amazing!” the elf sighed happily. She sounded like she was in love. If a person now could fall in love with an order or a cause. Having never truly understood the feeling, Asala wasn’t sure. Maybe it was something Southerners could do. Maybe that’s why they held so close to their Maker and Andraste. It was a sort of love? She briefly wondered if Cassandra would find the comparison amusing or fitting.

“I’m going to see if they’re looking for recruits! My house is just over there so if I hurry, I might be able to grab a few things and catch them before they leave,” the elf stated happily. Asala frowned. Well…

“Maybe you should wait a bit.” The problem wasn’t only that the Wardens may have trouble of their own, even if that was the reason Asala gave when the elf asked why she shouldn’t give her life to such a good cause. The other half of the matter, the one Asala didn’t mention, was that she thought the woman a bit too blinded by the moment. If she mulled it over and felt the same the next day and the day after that, she could consider the move. Not knowing anything about the elf, Asala couldn’t even begin to guess if it was a suitable cause of action for her, but taking time to consider it seemed good. Especially due to the current situation the Wardens seemed to be dealing with.

“There are many ways you can help the world with its current troubles,” Asala finished as she elf regarded her thoughtfully.

“Well… I guess that’s true. I’ll think about it, Your Worship... Thank you.” They had arrived at the woman’s cottage and said their farewells. Asala wasn’t sure what the woman might decide. Time would tell but they couldn’t dawdle; the village entrance was just beyond the barn opposite the dwelling.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I, like many others (most likely) also brought Blackwall along to Crestwood for my first playthrough. After that it just seemed like fate was begging for a revelation to come early. For this reason, I used the darkspawn quest and operation at the Storm Coast as legitimate reason to not have Blackwall present. He's just so awkward in Crestwood (and Valammar), I decided to spare him. Haha. Also, it's rather odd, from a story perspective, to not have every party member active in some sort. Why would you, especially after Corypheus attacks, leave anyone behind to twiddle their thumbs?
> 
> Cole; the weird subject. According to party banter with Dorian, it seems he doesn't need to eat or sleep, at least not before his personal quest (if you made him more human during it). Also, after Blackwall's revelation, you can get party banter between him and Cole where it seems to imply he's actually eating (but not interested in the food or keeping it down). It might just be a joke on Blackwall's part and a reference to babies.


End file.
